Chelsie Challenge
by dibdab4
Summary: My first Chelsie Challenge. Loving it :)
1. 1 Beginning

Beginning

_Symbolizing rebirth and new beginnings, the daffodil is virtually synonymous with spring._

"They should bloom in time for the wedding," Mrs. Hughes predicted as she placed the last daffodil bulb in the soil.

Mr. Carson had shook his head in dismay as he watched her kneeling on a folded blanket, her gloved hands patting down soil in the cold January morning air. "They won't grow, Mrs. Hughes. Nothing has been done to the beds to prepare them, and you plant them in the fall, not mid-winter."

"We'll see, Mr. Carson. You never know. Life has a way of surprising you." She hadn't looked at him when she said it. Had she, his admiration of the curve of her bottom would have been sadly interrupted.

She smiled at her own words. Life did have a way of surprising. Within the last few months, not only had the opportunity for a retirement she never thought possible presented itself, but at the age of almost sixty, she was engaged to be married to the man whom had long been the subject of her heart's desire.

"Finished." She arched her slightly aching back as Mr. Carson moved to assist her in standing. "Thank you," she smiled up at him as she rubbed the gloves together in an effort to remove clinging soil.

"Are you pleased with the house, Mrs. Hughes?" They looked up at the charming two story limestone structure.

"Quite pleased, Mr. Carson. I think I will be even more pleased when we are able to call it home."

"It will be strange to think of somewhere besides Downton as home." Mr. Carson's confession was tinged with a little melancholy.

"Downton has never been my home."

He was startled by her statement. "But you've lived there longer than you lived even in your childhood home, Mrs. Hughes. How can Downton not feel like your home?"

"I don't mean to sound contrary, Mr. Carson, but the fact is I didn't grow up here." She laughed as she added, "I don't know if you have noticed, but I don't exactly sound like the rest of you. And yes, I know I am no longer a Scottish farm girl, but I do still think of Argyll as my home."

Sensing his dismay, Mrs. Hughes pulled off a glove and slid her now bare hand into his. "Downton may be what you call home now, and Argyll may be what feels like home to me at the moment, but when we are married it will be a new beginning don't you think?" She squeezed his hand, "A new beginning in _our_ home."

He couldn't help but smile as he looked down at her lovely face. "Yes. _Our _home."

And now, three months later, a warm April sun shines on them as they arrive at the house on Brouncker Road. Mr. Carson holds her left hand in his right, his finger brushing over the gold band she has worn for less than an hour. As they enter through the gate, a dazzling array of yellow catches both their eyes as they embark up the path to the front door.

"Look, Charles."

He smiles; delighted for once to have been wrong. "What a lovely welcome home."

Mrs. Carson steps in front of him, her arms sliding under his as she looks up at her husband, "A lovely welcome to _our _home."


	2. 2 Accusation

Accusation

"How could you leave the gate open?" Charles Carson had never before raised his voice to his wife in the month since they had married.

Elsie Carson, generally a peaceful soul, was livid at her husband's accusation. Stepping around the kitchen table, she sidled up to him and answered in a volume slightly louder than his own, "How dare you accuse me! I didn't leave the gate open!"

"Well, I didn't leave it open!"

"Well, someone did because there are two cows in our front garden and our first _paying_ guest is due to arrive any minute!"

Mr. Carson felt his blood pressure climb as he looked into the angry face of his wife. "I am well aware there is a guest due at any moment! Do something!"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Do something? Do what?"

"You lived on a farm!"

"So that makes me the designated cow remover?!"

"I've never even touched a cow!" Charles couldn't continue his explanation as to why the predicament was hers' to solve for a knock at the front door. "Oh dear Lord!" He almost knocked Elsie down as he ran towards the front of the house.

He was greeted by a thoroughly amused Mrs. Patmore. "You've two cows in your garden."

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. Nothing gets by you."

"I have brought Mrs. Hu-Mrs. Carson some jam and canned vegetables I had promised."

Charles looked down in exasperation, "Oh, go on through. She's in the kitchen."

"No, she's coming around the side of the house to get rid of the cows because her husband has never even touched one!" Elsie Carson made long strides as she entered their sight from the west side of the property, a shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other.

Charles watched in puzzlement as she set down the bucket and shovel to pick up a branch that was only a meter long.

"Go on…go on…." Elsie skillfully ushered one cow towards the gate, swiftly moving in an arc towards the back of the other. Within a minute, both cows were safely outside the now firmly latched gate.

"Well, done, Mrs. Carson. That was very impressive." Mrs. Patmore smiled at her friend, before looking up at Charles, "Don't you think that was impressive, Mr. Carson?" She was met with a familiar raised eyebrow.

Elsie discarded the branch before bending over to retrieve the bucket and shovel. She fell back into her long strides as she crossed the yard to her husband and friend. "You think that was impressive, Mrs. Patmore, wait until you see Mr. Carson shovel cow pats."

Charles inhaled deeply, resignedly taking the shovel and bucket from his wife's hands. Elsie gave him a brief, but satisfied smile before stepping around him and taking Mrs. Patmore's arm. Charles was still within earshot as he heard Mrs. Patmore say, "And he's really never even touched a cow?" He had turned to defend himself when he heard the creak of the garden gate.

"Pardon me, sir. I am looking for a Mr. Carson? I believe I am expected." Charles turned his head to find a well-dressed gentleman standing just inside the gate. The man smiled brightly, "I must say, I don't get to leave London for the country very often and I forget how marvelous it is here. The air is so clean, and did you know? There are two large cows just outside your garden gate! Marvelous!"

Quickly discarding the bucket and shovel, Mr. Carson drew himself up into his most butler-like stance, "Good morning, sir. I am Charles Carson and it is my pleasure to welcome you. Please, let me take your bags. I am sure my wife will be happy to offer you a cup of tea."

"Oh! Oh dear."

Charles watched the man lift his expensive shoe from the middle of a freshly dropped cow pat.

Closing his eyes and sighing, Charles offered, "And we offer complimentary shoe cleaning..."


	3. 3 Restless

Restless

A whole week. It wasn't as if Charles hadn't known it was coming. Arrangements had been made a month before for Elsie to join Anna for a week at the Bates' London house in early June. Their troubles finally behind them, the valet and lady's maid had decided to sell their house and purchase a small hotel in Ripon. Anna and Elsie would spend the week cleaning and sprucing up the house so the agent could begin showing it to perspective buyers.

It had only been three days and he was completely restless. He had read two books, painted the upstairs bathroom and patched two tiles in the kitchen, had his annual appointment with Dr. Clarkson, followed by dinner with the physician. He had also paid call at Dower House and accompanied Mrs. Crawley to a meeting of the hospital board, of which he was now a member. The family was away for the Season, so there was no one to visit at the house. It had briefly crossed his mind to offer to polish the silver or inventory the wine cellar while the family was away, but he knew these were only silly whims.

They had agreed to take no guests while Elsie was away. Having been fully booked almost all of April and May, the exhausted couple decided a maid must be hired before their next bookings. Elsie had six interviews already set up for the week she returned.

Charles felt quite dismal as he looked at his watch to find it was only six o'clock in the evening. He still woke each morning at five, but had forced himself to stay in bed until six that morning, each minute spent wondering how anyone could stay in bed for more than five minutes after waking-well, stay in bed alone that is. Had Elsie been there, he would have gladly stayed cuddled around her soft form for hours. They had spent a great deal of their first three days of marriage curled up in the large, soft bed. They had been the best three days of his life.

And now, he was enduring what felt like the worst three days of his life.

Surely there was something he could be doing. His eyes drifted towards the stairs. He could take a long bath. Although they now enjoyed a large, modernly fitted bathtub, Charles hadn't diverged from the five minute bathing routine he had practiced for so many years at Downton. He saw no reason to soak when there were other things to do outside of the bath- other things with Elsie. She, on the other hand, had developed the practice of taking a long bath on nights when they didn't have guests. Charles didn't begrudge her this practice as she was always so relaxed and happy, not to mention sweet smelling and soft after her luxurious lavation. These were also the nights they took advantage of their privacy. Elsie's long bath the night before usually meant a late morning in the large, soft bed.

He began to close the lavatory door, but decided it futile. He was alone in a quiet house. and shutting the door would only intensify his isolation from the rest of the world. His clothes shed and tub filled, Charles eased himself into the warm water, letting his calves and feet hang over the other end to allow his long torso to sink far enough into the water to permit his neck to rest against the edge of the tub. He closed his eyes and began a practice his mother had taught him when he had trouble falling asleep as a little boy which involved starting at the tip of his toes and focusing on relaxing each part of his body until reaching the tip of his head.

The combination of the relaxation exercise and the warm water elicited a contented sigh from the large man. He liked the sound of his low, rich voice as it echoed off the porcelain. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…" He nimbly climbed up and down his vocal range, and after a few minutes of vocal acrobatics, he moved on to singing an actual song:

_By the light of the silvery moon_

_I want to spoon_

_To my honey I'll croon love's tune_

_Honeymoon…_

_Keep a'shining in June_

_Your silvery beams will bring love dreams_

_We'll be cuddling soon_

_By the silvery moon…_

He sang the chorus over and over, indulging with little trills and occasionally throwing in the echoes he and Elsie had recently heard over the wireless, a wedding gift from Lady Rose and Mr. Aldridge.

_By the light (not the dark, but the light)_

_Of the silvery moon (not the sun, but the moon)_

_I want to spoon (want to spoon, want to spoon)_

_To my honey, I'll croon love's tune_

_Honeymoon (honeymoon, honeymoon)_

_Keep a'shining in June (Not May, but June)_

_Your silvery beams will bring love dreams_

_We'll be cuddling soon (so, so very soon)_

_By the silvery moon…THE SILVERY MOOOOOON_

The last long held note echoed through the house. He had been so caught up in his singing, he had not heard the opening or closing of the front door, nor the footsteps on the stairs, or even sensed the presence of someone standing behind him in the doorway as he reached the beginning of the refrain.

"Oh, that was quite wonderful. I should go away more often."

Charles sloshed easily a gallon of water over the sides of the tub as he twisted around to see his lovely, smiling wife standing in the doorway.

"Elsie!"

She picked up a towel on her way to the tub, bending over to soak up some of his slosh. "Well, we don't have to clean the bathroom floor tomorrow."

"When did you…how? Why didn't you call or…"

"We finished far more quickly than we thought we would. There really wasn't all the much to do, and honestly, I have never worked harder or faster than I did these last three days."

Charles gave her a puzzled look, "Why?"

She tenderly ran her fingers through his hair, "Well, if you must know. I didn't realize how very much I would miss my husband. I couldn't wait to get back home to see him, but he may not be as happy to see me." She looked at him with concern, "Was it all right that I came back early? You may have had more things planned to do while I was away."

"Elsie Carson, I am singing at the top of my lungs in a bathtub at six-thirty on a Thursday night. I have spent most of the time thinking about you and the rest of the time thinking about how much I miss you. I was so restless; I thought I would go mad."

Elsie gave him a tender smile, leaning down and kissing him. "That is the sweetest thing you have ever said to me, Charles Carson. Now run some warm water into the tub."

"What?"

"If I am joining you, I would prefer the water be warm."

"As you wish, Mrs. Carson." He stretched his neck to give her another kiss.

The tub was soon refilled with warm water, husband leaning back between his wife's thighs, her hands caressing his chest as her legs wrapped around his middle.

He was gently massaging the arch of her right foot when he asked, "Would you like me to sing some more, Elsie?"

"That would be lovely, Charles, but you might sing a little softer this time."

"Oh yes?"

"Yes. During your concert earlier I could hear you two streets away."

She let out a squeal as he pulled on her little toe.


	4. 4 Snowflake

**This is a continuation from the previous drabble, per request ;)**

Snowflake

Retaliating for the sudden tug of her little toe, Elsie leaned her head forward and nipped Charles' earlobe.

"Oh! You sneak!" He took her left foot in his hand, lightly running his fingers along the bottom.

"No! You know I am ticklish!" She twisted in protest, quite helpless as he pinned her body behind his. "Oh! No! Truce! Truce!"

"Very well. Seal the deal with a kiss." Charles turned his head back towards her and was met with a sweet peck. Settling back against her, he once again took her left foot in his hand. He was applying pressure with his thumb along her arch when he noticed a small jagged scar just above her ankle. "Elsie, where how did you get this scar?"

Elsie leaned over his shoulder, "Oh that. I have had that since I was seven."

"But how did you get it?"

"I was viciously attacked by an animal."

Charles pulled his head back to look at her profile. "What?"

Elsie laughed, "Don't worry, Charles. The vicious animal was a wee moggy."

"A cat? You were attacked by a cat?"

"A kitten to be exact. A beautiful little white ball of fur with gray ears and a gray tipped tail that I called Snowflake."

"And why did Snowflake attack you?" Charles ran his finger over the scar as he waited for her answer. "Well?"

"Well, it is rather embarrassing."

"Oh, tell me, love."

Elsie sighed, "Very well. You see my mother had altered a pair of union jack pajamas of my father's for me to wear under my night dress when it was very cold and I happened to be wearing them the night I snuck Snowflake into my bed."

"All right…" Charles wasn't following, but he was intrigued.

"Well, the mother cat in our barn had had kittens earlier in the fall and I was madly in love with the little white one and I spent every spare moment I could with her and one night it was bitterly cold and snowing quite heavily, I begged my father to let me bring Snowflake into the house for fear she would freeze. He, of course, refused, promising she would be fine with her brothers and sisters in the barn, but I couldn't stand it. I was so convinced she would freeze that I tucked her into the sleeve of my coat and managed to get her into my room. "

Charles grinned as he thought of a pretty little girl with big blue eyes cuddling a furry white kitten. "And you weren't caught?"

"Not immediately, no. I managed to keep her quiet most of the evening." Elsie laughed, "I don't know if I have ever been as nervous as I was when my mother was putting me to bed. I had Snowflake tucked in a drawer that I left open a crack. My mother had just leaned down to kiss me good night when I saw the tip of Snowflake's tail poke out through the crack. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest."

Charles joined in her laughter, "Bless your little heart. Did your mother see it?"

"No! I was so relieved when she turned off the light and closed the door. I waited a minute and then crept out from under my blankets and took Snowflake out of the drawer and brought her into my bed. I was so happy to have her curled up with me and she was good as gold all night. Unfortunately, seven year old me hadn't given much thought to how I would get her out of my room and back to the barn the next morning."

Charles shook his head, "Oh dear."

"Oh yes. I woke up to hear my mother just outside my door, so I panicked and tried to stuff Snowflake down the front of my night dress, but I pulled the union jack along with my dress and managed to stuff her into the underwear. The poor wee thing was wiggling like mad when my mother opened the door. I tried to stay still, but Snowflake was tickling and scratching as she made her way down my body, well, I had to squirm a bit. And my mother just stood there waiting for me to get out of bed! I remember turning onto my side and the cat climbing into the seat of the union jack so I had to awkwardly slid off the side of the bed, keeping my backside away from my mother. I took a step and felt the cat slide into my left pant leg and I took another step and felt her slide down a little further, all the while she was digging her claws into my leg, trying to get purchase as she fell."

"Ohhh…" Charles shook with laughter as he pictured what she had just shared. "And your mother just stood there?"

Elsie laughed along with him, "Yes! I didn't know it then, but she and my father had slipped into my room in the night to make sure I was warm enough and saw the kitten curled up at my side."

"Oh no! So she knew why you were squirming?"

"Yes, but she just stood there and watched me struggle! I don't know why, but I thought that if I could just make it to my dresser, I could stand on the other side of it and hide the cat. Unfortunately, Snowflake was so traumatized by the whole thing; she suddenly dug her claw deep into my ankle, screeched and weed on my foot all at the same time."

Charles had to sit up for fear of crushing Elsie, he was laughing so hard.

"So now you know the source of my scar."

Charles fought to catch his breath, "Oh, thank you. I needed that laugh."

"Glad my misery is a source of mirth for you, Mr. Carson."

Charles squeezed her foot, "So what happened after the cat made her presence so well known?"

"I got a firm swat on my bottom is what happened and I wasn't allowed to play with the kittens for a week."

"Aw, poor little Elsie Hughes."

"Yes, I was quite heartbroken, but it was worth it to cuddle with the sweet furry thing that night."

"Speaking of cuddling, this water is getting quite cold, Mrs. Carson. Would you care to join me in our warm bed?"

Elsie smiled at his request. "I would quite like that, Mr. Carson." She wrapped her arms around him, "You aren't quite as furry as Snowflake, but you'll do."


	5. 5 Haze

**Started a story that involved Elsie and Isobel getting drunk at a Bonfire Night celebration, but couldn't get to a happy ending, so this is what I ended up with. Not thrilled, but has a certain sad sweetness, I think. And Charles is in the bath- AGAIN.**

Haze

It was the third time that week he had suffered the nightmare. Charles woke bathed in sweat, heart palpitating. He turned and grabbed Elsie's hip, reassuring himself that she was indeed next to him in the bed. His sudden movement startled her.

"What is it, Charles? Are you all right?"

"Fine. I just…it…I'm fine. Go back to sleep, love." Charles removed his hand from her hip and threw his legs over the side of the bed, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his pajamas.

Elsie reached over to rub his back, but immediately felt the sticky moisture that had seeped into his pajama top. "Charles, you are dripping wet. Are you ill?" Moving onto her knees behind him, she placed her hand on his forehead, "I don't think you have a fever."

Charles took her hand from his forehead and moved it to his lips, kissing her palm. "I am fine love. I think I will take a bath. You go back to bed."

"I'll sit with you."

"You need to sleep."

"No, I will sit with you. Something is wrong even if you won't tell me what it is."

Relieved she wanted to join him, Charles whispered, "As you wish."

Elsie moved swiftly to the bathroom, filling the tub with lukewarm water and pulled the stool from her vanity into the bathroom as Charles lowered himself into the tub.

She let him relax for a bit before pressing the matter. "Do you think it was something you ate? Do you hurt anywhere? I can call Dr. Clarkson."

Charles reached over the side of the tub and took her hand, "I am not sick Elsie. Nothing hurts, well, my head a little, but it is just a headache."

"I'll get you a Beecham's powder." She rose to leave, but Charles pulled on her hand. "In a minute. Just let me look at you for a moment."

Elsie looked at him in bewilderment as she sat back down on the stool. "Are you really all right, Charles?" she whispered.

He gave her a tender smile, "Yes. I just keep having a bad dream. A very bad dream."

Elsie stroked his hand as she looked at his pained countenance. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

"Not really, but perhaps talking about it will help." Charles leaned his head against the rim of the tub and closed his eyes. "When it starts, I am walking down our road and I can see you just ahead of me and I call for you to stop, but you don't and suddenly the street fills with haze and it gets so thick, I can't see you. I call out your name and start running, but the faster I run, the thicker the haze, and I become lost and I can't find you. I can't ever find you and I wake up in a panic." His voice was like that of a frightened child.

"But I am right next to you in bed, Charles."

Charles let his head roll to the side to look at her, tears filling his eyes, "I know, but lately, Elsie... I can't seem to stop thinking about how little time we have left…" He couldn't continue as a sob roses in his throat.

"Oh, darling, Oh, my darling," Elsie fell to her knees at the side of the tub, wrapping her arms around Charles. "Shhhh….Oh, darling, you can't think like that. Shhh…" Pulling back to look at his face, she reached over to the towel rack. He buried his face in the towel she has given him until his sobs subsided.

"I'm sorry, love. I don't know what has gotten into me."

Elsie gently rubbed his arm, "When I was a little girl, I used to have terrible dreams about a beast that would reach out from under my bed and grab me by my ankles and jerk me under the bed."

"That's terrible," Charles sniffed.

"It was. And then Becky was born. And suddenly the beast wasn't after me, but Becky. I would wake up more hysterical than before she was born. Finally, after another terror filled night, my mam pulled me into her lap and told me that the reason I was scared of the monster getting Becky was because I loved her so much and wanted to protect her and that in order to protect her, the next time I had the dream I needed to tell the beast that he might as well climb back under the bed and stay there because my love was stronger than his jaws or his claws." Elsie smiled, her eyes welling up at the memory of her mother and baby sister.

Charles tenderly smiled up at her, "And you conquered the beast?"

"I did. That night, before I went to sleep, I threw my head over the side of the bed and I told that beast not to even bother coming out because my sister was safe and would stay safe always because I loved her."

"And she has." Charles reached up with his towel and dabbed the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks.

"She has." Elsie smiled through her tears.

Elsie took one end of the towel and wiped her face as Charles did the same with his end.

They didn't speak for a minute, their sniffling the only breaks in the silence.

After a moment, Elsie put her hand under his chin, "We are healthy, happy, fortunate people, Charles, and I am not going anywhere. Even if you wanted me to. I will be next to you, as I have been for so long. Know that. Know that in your heart." She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips.

"I know it. In my heart, I know it."

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"I do. With you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

They curled up together, each in fresh, dry pajamas. Charles felt her relax in his arms as she relented to sleep. Closing his red, swollen eyes, Charles whispered, "She's here. She's right here. She's right here." The words played in a loop in his mind as he drifted back to sleep. He found himself on their street; she was in front of him. He sensed the haze starting to form as he reached out to her. He wanted to run, but he stood still. "Elsie." As he watched her begin to turn back to him, the haze disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Smiling sweetly, Elsie held out her arms, "I'm right here."


	6. 6 Flame

Flame

The frame was tucked under a book near the top of the trunk. She hadn't been looking for it, but for an old greeting card she thought might have the address of an old friend. "There you are. I wondered where you had gotten to." The portrait had mysteriously disappeared from his desk just after they returned to Downton after Lady Rose's season in London and Charles hadn't mentioned Alice Neale in all the time that had passed.

Closing the lid of the large trunk, she leaned against the curved top. "You…twit," Elsie grimaced at the woman in the portrait. "You broke his heart you know?" Tilting her head with a sigh, she continued to look at the portrait. "Well, you're dead, anyway, so it isn't as if I can claw your eyes out. And your loss is my gain, I suppose." Elsie stared the portrait a few more moments before throwing back her head with a chuckle, "But I am the one sitting here talking to a photograph, so who is the twit now?" Lifting the lid of the trunk, she quickly tucked the frame back under the book and continued her search for the old greeting card.

It was nearly midnight when Elsie and Charles got to bed, their two lodgers in for the night. They were settling into their soft mattress when Charles suddenly put his hand on her arm, "Say, where did you get to this afternoon? You had a telephone call from Mrs. Patmore, but I couldn't find you. I am sorry I am just now remembering."

"Well, it can't have been too important or she would have called back. I will try her tomorrow."

"But where were you?" Charles turned off his bed lamp, twisting on to his side as he pulled up the sheet and counterpane.

Elsie settled into his arms, reaching for her lamp, but stopped shy of pushing the switch, "Oh, I was looking for an address on an old greeting card, so I went out to the shed to look in the steamer trunk."

"I would have looked for you. You didn't have to get out in the dirty shed."

Elsie turned over to face him, "Thank you, but it doesn't matter. I didn't find the card. You know, I didn't realize the trunk was so full." She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly had a compulsion for him to know she had found the portrait. "There were some books in the top rack. I picked them up to bring them in, but decided I would ask you first." Charles didn't respond but searched her face as she continued, "The books? Do you know which ones I mean? There was a Kipling and a volume of Whitman. I thought they were two of your favorites, I was surprised you didn't want them with the other books in the sitting room…" She waited for a response, but her husband remained quiet. "There were several things I had forgotten about in that trunk; postcards, souvenirs, frames and photos…"

"So you found her." The coldness of his tone surprised her.

"I saw the portrait of Alice, if that is the "her" to which you refer, but I also found several other things…"

"But you want me to know you found her."

"Well, I don't…well…well, yes. Yes. I don't know why, but yes, I suppose I do. I truly don't know why, but yes, I do want you to know."

Charles pulled his arms from around her and turned onto his back, "Are you disappointed I didn't get rid of her?"

"What?" Elsie was taken aback by his question. "No. No, not at all. I was the one who gave you the frame. Why would I expect you to get rid of it?"

"Because she was my, my…" he struggled to find the right reference. "My old flame."

Elsie was surprised to find the words he chose stung her. "Charles, that was a very long time ago and I would never begrudge you your memories. I suppose I just, oh, I don't know." She rolled away from him, curling up on her side.

He looked at the ceiling, berating himself for letting such a small matter escalate to their current situation. Rolling back onto his side, he gently placed his hand on her curved back, whispering, "You suppose what, Elsie? What do you want me to say?"

Her voice was thick with emotion, "I suppose I want you to say that you prefer me to her."

"What?" Charles slid his hand around her waist, tenderly pulling her to him.

Elsie tried to pull away, but he held her fast. "I'm a fool. Please forget I said anything. I am being a silly old fool. Just forget it."

Charles slipped his hand under her head, cradling it against his chest, "She is dead, Elsie. Why would such a thing even cross your mind? I love you. I prefer you to everyone."

Elsie looked up at him, "I know it is ridiculous, but I have been jealous of her ever since the day I walked into the pantry and found you digging in that box for her photograph. It was one of the first moments I realized I cared for you as more than just a friend."

"Why, Mrs. Hughes."

Smiling, Elsie wiped the corner of her eye, "You should have heard me in the shed earlier. I gave her quite a talking to."

Charles chuckled, "And what did you say?"

"Well, I called her a twit for breaking your heart but then said she was dead anyway so I couldn't claw her eyes out and then I think I told her that her loss was my gain."

Charles was quite touched by Elsie's confession, overwhelmed that she cared enough about him to lash out at the photograph of someone he hadn't seen in over forty years. He had never felt more loved. "You may owe her an apology."

Elsie pulled her head back sharply at his words, "What?"

"Well, seeing her photo reminded me of how it had felt to care about someone. "

"Go on."

"You see, I had denied myself any thought of caring or loving someone for so long, I wasn't sure if I still had the capacity. I remember a particularly sleepless night that I laid awake in my little bed wondering what a woman I could love would be like." He pulled Elsie tightly to him, "I knew she would have to be kind and clever. And definitely have the patience to cope with my…eccentricities."

Elsie grinned at him, "Yes? And?"

"And that I would want her to be feminine and lovely and warm and gentle," he lightly ran his fingers along her jaw. "I would also want to be able to talk to her about any and everything." Elsie listened intently as he continued, "And she would have to be the last person I wanted to see before I went to sleep each night because she would be the one I would carry into my dreams…and as I considered all of these qualities, I quickly realized I already knew her and, deep down, already loved her." He kissed her temple, "Now I am just sorry it took me so long to tell her."

Elsie pulled his face down to hers, kissing him deeply. "I love you," she whispered as she buried her face into her neck.

"She could never compete with you, Elsie. No one could." He kissed the top her head as his hand ran up and down her back. "Are you ready to turn out the light, love?"

Elsie reached over and extinguished the lamp, happy in the knowledge that hers' was the only flame that burned bright for Charles Carson.


	7. 7 Formal

Formal

It was a secret she would never divulge, but many a night after having shared a sherry or glass of wine, she would climb into her narrow bed and picture how she would do it. Laying in the quiet darkness, she moved her fingers as she imagined the feel of cold metal and stiff cotton. The fantasy usually led to her undoing, her satisfied, but exhausted body drifting into dreams of being held against a starched white shirt, strong arms in black cloth enveloping her.

He admired himself in the full length mirror. It had been more than six months since he had worn his formal livery, but the ensemble still fit him like a glove. He felt awkward to be attending alone, but the full guest roster meant Elsie would be unable to accompany him to the hospital board dinner being held at Dower House. It would be his first experience as a guest at such a gathering and his nerves were quite frayed. He certainly knew how to behave when serving, but he had never given much thought as to what it would be like to be served.

A quick knock preceded Elsie's entrance into the room. Shutting the door behind her, she smiled at her husband, thinking him quite grand in his formal attire. "My, my. Don't you look handsome, Mr. Carson." She reached up to straighten his tie.

"Is it crooked? I spent five minutes tying it. You would think I hadn't put one on every evening for forty years. I suppose it is just nerves."

Elsie pulled back her hand, "It's perfect. And why are you nervous? I can't think of anyone who should be more at ease in a formal setting."

"It will strange to be seated at the table, rather than serving."

Elsie leaned up and gave him a quick kiss, "Enjoy it, my darling. You deserve it."

Charles gave her a loving smile, "Thank you. Well, I should be off. I don't imagine I will be late, but I will come in through the back, just in case, so leave backdoor unlocked, please, love."

She nodded and smiled, "I will."

He was almost out the door when Elsie called out, "Oh, Charles. Don't take your clothes off without me."

"What?" He stepped back into the room, shocked at her request.

"Just don't, all right?"

He shook his head, but couldn't help but grin at his lovely wife.

The evening flew by as she and their new maid Mona tended to their lodgers, Mr. and Mrs. Bloom, Mr. Adams and Miss Grey; serving dinner and after dinner drinks, various laundry requests and readying the kitchen for the morning's breakfast. It was nearing eleven by the time she bid Mona goodnight and made her way to her bedroom. She had just undressed to her shift when she heard Charles turn the door knob. Slipping into her dressing gown, she crossed the room and turned the key in the lock.

His cheeks were rosy and a broad smile crossed his lips as she opened the door. The wine served with dinner had obviously been to his liking. Leaning down, he gave her a lingering kiss, "I thought you might already be asleep." .

"I had some last minute laundry requests." She took his hand and led him into the room, "So how was it? What was it like to sit at the table?"

"I have to admit, Mrs. Carson, that is was quite nicely done, although I do find Mr. Spratt's voice quite irritating."

Elsie laughed as she herself found the man less than charming. "And how was the wine?"

"Quite nice. It was a Margaux and as I say…"

"You can't go far off with a Margaux," she grinned at him.

Smirking at her tease, he sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his shoes. His right shoe removed, he looked up to see Elsie had slipped out of her house coat and was pulling her shift over her shoulders, her naked back to him. He cleared his throat, "I believe you made a request as I was leaving."

Elsie looked over her shoulder to find him staring at her with hooded eyes. She fought a smile as she informed him, "You can take off you other shoe and your socks, but stop there."

He watched her cross to the dresser and retrieve one of the silk gowns usually only worn on nights when the house was empty. Not taking his eyes from her, he reached down and removed his remaining shoe, socks and garters.

Now scantily clad in her gown, Elsie moved to stand in front of a still seated Charles.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to do this." She gave him a seductive smile as she took one end of his white tie in her hand, gently pulling it loose. Charles rested his hands on her hips as she pulled the tie from around his neck. Throwing it over her shoulder, she bit her bottom lip as her fingers deftly unbuttoned his waist coat. She inhaled deeply as she began to press the small metal studs from their positions down the front of his shirt which she followed by sliding her hand under the right side of his jacket to the deposit the cold metal pieces into his inside pocket. Charles gasped as she slipped her hands into the waistband of his trousers, nimbly freeing his braces from their anchoring buttons. Delighting in his response, she slowly ran her hands up over his torso, gradually reaching his shoulders before letting her fingers run down his arms to where his hands rested on her hips. Taking hold of his right hand, she turned and perched on his left knee. She could feel Charles' breath against her neck as she rested his wrist atop her bosom, slowly turning and releasing the mother pearl cufflink. Brushing her bottom across his groin, she slid to his other knee and repeated her actions on his left wrist.

Leaning over to his ear, she whispered, "You must be warm in your coat, Mr. Carson." Standing, she pulled Charles up, watching him turn without prompting. He sighed as she pulled the heavy black coat off his shoulders and down his arms. Coat discarded, she reached around, slipping her fingers behind his fly, a gentle tug encouraging him to turn and face her.

Having complied with her wordless request, Charles remained silent as she slowly removed his vest, trousers, and shorts, only speaking when she had turned her back to hang his things on his dressing stand. "So this is why you didn't want me to take off my clothes without you?"

She blushed, grinning over her shoulder at him. "You cut quite a figure in your formal attire, Charles. I spent many of our late night talks admiring how dashing you looked. I always felt quite shabby sitting at the end of an evening, you so handsome in your white tie and stiff shirt, me in some black or brown drab."

Charles crossed to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, "I had no idea, Mrs. Hughes."

She laughed at his use of her old name. "Well, Mr. Carson, it is true. You have always been a beauty to me."

He laughed at her turn of phrase, "Beauty? I think that is taking it a bit, too far, but I'll have you know, you weren't the only one doing the admiring."

"No?"

Pulling her tightly against him, he whispered in her ear, "I used to lay in the dark and wonder what you looked like without your corset."

"Charles Carson!" Turning, to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I should probably be offended, but I am too flattered to manage it."

"I am a man; mere flesh and blood. I have no other excuse for my wicked ways. Now, since you have liberated me of my finery…" he pulled her hands from around his neck, guiding her to their bed, "…may I request your company in some nocturnal activities."

She shook her head in amusement as she pushed him down onto the bed, "Always so formal, Mr. Carson…"


	8. 8 Companion

**I added an "s"- I hope you will forgive my addition :)**

Companion(s)

"I thought you would be pleased." Elsie didn't look up as she prepared Charles' tea. Her husband had woken with a toothache and his disposition was none the better for his pain.

"It wasn't proper for you to ask them." Charles held a hand to his lower left jaw, wincing in pain. "It just isn't done."

"Well, Lady Edith seemed very pleased and Lady Mary, well, she was Lady Mary, but I don't think she was insulted by my invitation."

Charles pursed his lips at her slight of Lady Mary, but was too distracted by his tooth to voice a defense. "And today of all days."

"How could I know you would have a toothache when I made the plans yesterday?"

Charles raised an eyebrow, "But only mentioned it this morning."

Sighing, she set his tea in front of him. "I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you would be delighted. I am sorry you aren't. You can stay upstairs. I will attend to them myself."

Charles gingerly lifted the cup to his lips, "No you won't. I am going to see Mr. Pigeon about this tooth, but will be back in plenty of time."

"But what if you have to have it pulled? He'll use his nitrous oxide, won't he? Surely you will need to go straight to bed?"

"I am sure it won't come to that." Taking a sip, he howled with pain as the hot tea hit the tooth's nerve.

Elsie shook her head, "Yes. I am sure it won't come to that."

It did come to that. Charles was given a fairly large dosage of the laughing gas, as well as an injection of Novocain into his gum before Mr. Pigeon pulled the offending tooth. Dr. Clarkson happened to be passing by as a loopy Charles emerged from the dentistry office. "Are you all right, Mr. Carson?"

"Hullo, Dar Clarson. Ah em quah ah rye. Ah ha juh haw uh ooth puh." The injection of Novocain had not worn off, its effects carrying over to Charles' tongue.

Dr. Clarkson watched the large man weave slightly as he stepped onto the pavement. "Would you allow me to join you on your walk home? I am headed that way as it happens."

"Tha woo bih duhlahfuh." Charles offered a silly smile.

Dr. Clarkson quickly intervened as Charles took a few wobbly steps in the wrong direction.

O)O)O)O)O)O)O

Elsie had stepped out the front door to look for Charles when the car pulled up. The driver had barely opened the door when two small feet hit the ground and started running towards her.

"George! Wait!" Lady Edith stepped out of the car, looking over her shoulder as her nephew sprinted away.

"I've got him, milady." Elsie was met with a warm embrace around her knees. "Hello, laddie. I am very happy to see you." She patted the blonde head as Lady Edith and a skipping Marigold made their way up the path.

"You see what a disciplinarian I am. If his mother were here he would still be waiting for permission to get out of the car."

"He is happy and that is what matters. And hello to you, Miss Marigold!" Elsie reached out and patted the curly head of the small girl. "You look awfully pretty in your pink dress." The little girl let go of her Lady Edith's hand and stepped next to George, basking in Elsie's attention. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea, milady? Mr. Carson has gone to see the dentist, but will be shortly."

"Actually, I am due at a meeting of the committee of the church fete. I will get quite the snake eye from Granny if I am late." She held out a basket to Elsie, "You are so kind to have them. They have both been quite excited about playing away from the Abbey and Nanny. There are toys and some extra clothes just in case you need them. They are both very good about letting you know if they need a trip to the lavatory and I will be back in time to take them home for lunch, but I won't tell if you sneak them a biscuit or two."

Taking the basket, Elsie smiled at the young woman. It had never been acknowledged by either of them, but Elsie was quite sure Lady Edith was aware that she knew about Marigold's true identity. Elsie would never embarrass the young mother by bringing it up. She greatly admired Lady Edith's obvious love and devotion to the child.

"Be very good and I will see you in a little while." Having kissed Marigold's head and squeezed George's hand, the young woman returned to the car, exchanging waves with Elsie and the children as the car backed down the drive.

"Now! Would you like to go inside and play? I have some toys and biscuits waiting for you."

"Yes! Yes!" Two little heads nodded energetically as the trio made their way into the house.

Elsie took them into the dining room where she had placed a large basket filled with various toys and stuffed animals on the floor. Another basket of old hats and gloves sat on the table, a last minute idea of Elsie's to let the children play dress up.

The children nibbled shortbread cookies as they pulled toys from the basket. George busied himself with a box of soldiers as Marigold pulled cups and saucers and a teapot from a small velvet box. "Are you going to have a tea party, Miss Marigold?"

The little girl smiled, "With biscuits and sweeties."

"Very good, " Elsie smiled as she lowered herself to the floor. George quickly eased himself against her lap, marching the small wooden soldiers up her skirt draped leg and knees.

She had just accepted a cup and saucer from Marigold as she heard the front door open. "We're in the dining room, Charles!" Elsie watched the door for her husband, but was surprised to see Dr. Clarkson appear.

"Good morning! Why, I see you have some companions. Hello George, Marigold."

The children politely responded with "Hellos" before returning to their playing.

"I am afraid Mr. Carson is a little worse from wear after his dental appointment, but I see you have your hands full. Would you mind if I put him to bed?"

Elsie looked at Dr. Clarkson with alarm, "Is he all right? Is he ill?"

"He is fine. He is still a little foggy from the gas and his mouth is still quite numb. He just needs a lie down, I think."

"Thank you, Dr. Clarkson. If you wouldn't mind seeing him upstairs, I would be most appreciative."

"Not at all, Mrs. Carson. I will let myself out."

Hearing the plodding steps of the men on the stairs, Elsie returned her attention to the children.

Forty-five minutes of tea party, war, I spy and roll the ball passed quickly. Elsie felt her back stiffening and decided she should rise from the floor while she was still able. It was a slightly arduous process, but she managed to get to her feet without disturbing the children. She was arching her back when she heard steps coming down the stairs. "Charles? Are you up?"

A slightly dazed, but happy Charles suddenly appeared in the doorway, dressed in his suit, his tie slightly askew. "Are you having fun without me?" The Novocain had thankfully worn off for the most part, but he still seemed to be floating on the happy cloud that was nitrous oxide.

"Are you sure you want to be up? You might want to stay in bed for a while yet."

"And miss playtime, Mrs. Hughes? I think not."

Elsie took his arm as he lumbered into the room. "Would you like to have a seat? The children have lots of toys."

Bracing herself, she managed to get Charles onto the floor without falling herself. Marigold and George delighted at the presence of the large bear like man with the funny grin.

"I will step into the kitchen and get more biscuits and milk if you are all right with them for a moment?"

Charles nodded happily, "We will be quite all right, Mrs. Hughes. Mmmmm….biscuits and milk." He giggled and wiggled his eyebrows at the children, eliciting peals of laughter from his tiny companions.

Elsie couldn't help but giggle herself as she made a quick trip to the kitchen. She had just deposited the tray of shortbread and milk on the table when she heard a knock at the door. "I'll be right back."

She smiled at the sound of laughter as she made her way to the entry. Opening the door, she found a smiling Lady Edith.

"I am happy to see the house still stands."

Elsie ushered her in, offering to take her coat. "They have been wonderful. We have had quite a fun time. Charles is with them now in the dining room. Do you have to leave right away or could I offer you a cup of tea?"

Lady Edith nodded eagerly, "Tea would be wonderful. Thank you, Mrs. Hu-Carson. I am sorry."

"Don't worry, milady. Even Mr. Carson slips and calls me 'Mrs. Hughes' on occasion."

They had almost reached the dining room when they suddenly heard a strange, high pitched voice. "My dear, but isn't this tea lovely? Are you quite enjoying it?"

"Oh, yes!" Marigold chimed.

The high pitched voice had a certain familiar cadence as it continued, "It is splendid. I say, wasn't there a masked ball in Paris when cholera broke out? Half the guests were dead before they left the ballroom."

Elsie threw her hand over her mouth and froze in place as she listened to her husband obviously mimicking the Dowager Countess. Lady Edith let out a giggle, stepping around her to look into the dining room. Elsie was startled as the young woman grabbed her hand and pulled her into the doorway to reveal the scene on the floor. The three companions held tiny tea cups in each of their hands; Marigold wore a cloche hat, George an old bowler and Charles a navy blue woman's hat trimmed with posies, complete with a veil.

Taking an imaginary sip of his tea from the small cup, Charles glanced up at the women in the doorway. His reactions were a little delayed by the lingering effects of the gas, but the presence of Lady Edith was eventually registered and resulted in an open mouthed look of shock.

Lady Edith gave Elsie a quick smile before returning her attention to Charles, "My, Granny, what big eyes you have…"


	9. 9 Move

Move

A cool breeze passed over their faces, a subtle hint of the brisk autumn weather that was on its way to Yorkshire. Beautiful, full and fluffy white clouds drifted through the early September sky as the husband and wife reclined on a blanket under a large tree at the edge of a meadow. Each drifted on the precipice of sleep, their contented stomachs full of bread, wine and cheese.

"I couldn't move if I wanted to." Charles head rested in Elsie's lap as she sat leaning against the trunk of the tree.

"I take it you are enjoying our picnic, Mr. Carson."

"More than I can say. It was a lovely idea, Mrs. Carson."

Elsie leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead as she ran her fingers through his thick hair. "I am very glad to hear it."

Elsie watched Charles' eyes slowly surrender with a last flutter as he drifted into sleep. She was careful not to move and disturb his slumber. She loved to watch him sleep, always struck by how young he looked in this peaceful state. The lines around his eyes and mouth virtually disappeared, as did the creases in his brow as his face relaxed. She could clearly imagine what he had looked like as a small child.

Studying her husband's beautiful face, Elsie felt her own eyelids grow heavy. She let her mind wander as her eyes closed, her head resting comfortably against the tree.

The picture of a long legged little boy, perhaps six or seven years old, with a mop of unruly black hair appeared in her mind. She watched the handsome boy jump from stone to stone as he crossed a small stream in pursuit of a bright orange butterfly, a smile on his lips and an errant curl resting on his forehead. Relaxed by the sound of the nearby stream and the warm rays of the sun on her legs, Elsie drifted to sleep, taking the child along into her dreams.

"Move! Move faster of we'll lose it." The boy tugged on her hand as they traversed alongside the stream, dodging rocks and mud as the butterfly fluttered and flirted in her flight. He stopped suddenly, spying the monarch resting on a sapling only a few feet away from them. "Shhhh…." The boy had his finger to his lips as he looked up at her. She was startled to see bright blue eyes briefly shining up at her as the child smiled with glee before turning back to the butterfly. The lad was built like Charles, but it was her broad smile and dark blue orbs that she had glimpsed. She suddenly knew the hand tugging hers' belonged to their child; the boy time, nature and circumstance had denied them.

"Oh! It moved! Come on!" The boy pulled her along as their pursuit continued. She desperately wanted him to relent in the chase so she could look at him more closely, talk to him, but as she called out for him to stop, he refused, "No! We must move! Move! Move!"

The chase continued for several minutes, the joyful child moving too quickly for her to get a better look. "Move faster!" he laughed, pulling on her hand as they approached a large tree. He stopped short at the base of the trunk that separated the wood from the edge of a meadow. Elsie had a sense she had been to this place before as she looked past the tree at the sea of green.

The little boy looked up at her with a sweet smile, "You have to stay here. I promise I'll see you again, but you have to stay here, Mam." Elsie opened her mouth to beg him to stay, but having let go of her hand, the child slipped around to the other side of the tree. She rushed after him, but upon reaching the meadow she saw no trace of anything but the waving green expanse.

"Come back! Come back!"

"Elsie, wake up. Wake up, love." Charles voice was gentle in her ear as her eyes fluttered open to see the same vast green field that had just filled her dream. Startled and confused, she looked around the side of the tree having the sensation she had just stood behind it.

She turned back to her husband's concerned face, "Where is he?"

Charles took her hand in his, "Who? Who are you looking for?"

"The boy. We were chasing…he told me to move faster because it was getting away."

"You were dreaming, love. It was just a dream."

Elsie blinked as she fought to make sense of her experience and current state. A sudden sadness filled her as she realized the child had only been a figure of her imagination.

"What was getting away?"

Elsie's eyes welled up with tears as she debated whether to tell Charles about the beautiful lad with the black curls and blue eyes. She opened her mouth to answer, but a blurred flash of orange caught her attention. "Look, Charles."

He looked down at the spot upon which her wet eyes rested. A large orange monarch perched at the edge of their blanket. He was unable to discern what she had said next, her whispered words had been accompanied by a sob. It had sounded something like "He came back," but he couldn't be sure. Rather than ask her to repeat it, he simply wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she wept. Charles kept an eye on the butterfly as Elsie wiped her eyes with the handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket.

While a sense of loss lingered, Elsie began to feel an odd sense of comfort as she looked at the bright orange creature. It was true the boy wasn't real, but he had seemed so very real to her in the dream. She looked down at her empty hand, the sensation of his small hand against her palm still lingered. She smiled as she realized that while only a trick of her mind, the dream had been so vivid that the child was now indelibly etched in her memory; the memory of him as strong as those she had of her parents, William, Mr. Crawley and Lady Sybil.

Her tears dried, Elsie reached over and took Charles' free hand, gently squeezing it, prompting him to turn and kiss her forehead. Elsie watched the butterfly suddenly alight as Charles' lips rested against her temple. She smiled and whispered, "Goodbye," as she watched the monarch disappear among the waving blades of grass.

"Are you all right?"

"I am now."

"Good." Charles lifted her hand to his mouth, gently brushing his lips over her knuckles, "Shall we make a move then?"

Elsie looked up at her handsome husband and smiled, "Yes, let's make a move."

Blanket and basket gathered, the couple joined hands as they began their journey around the tree that would lead them along the stream and back to the road that led home, unaware of the flutter of orange behind them that follows their every move.


	10. 10 Silver

**Dark and far from a drabble. Fair warning. The story took over the writer and this monster was born. It way more than a drabble. Violence and mature themes ahead. Am considering this taking place in a different universe than that of the other pieces in the challenge. Don't want to color the rest of the work with this experience. By the way, you are all lovely and gorgeous. Your kindness is overwhelming. XOXO**

Silver

Charles had run into the man at the train station, a chance meeting of one traveler departing and the other arriving. "I will call my wife and tell her to expect you." Charles had hastily written down directions to the house on Brouncker Road before ducking into the station to call Elsie with news of the lodger she was to expect. His day trip to Manchester for the funeral of an acquaintance would allow him to be back in plenty of time to assist her with the lodger's dinner.

"Good afternoon. My husband mentioned we were to expect a gentleman this morning. I am Mrs. Carson, won't you please come in."

The large man didn't so much walk, but glide into the entry of the house. A shiny silver thread was woven through the gray tweed that composed the man's coat under which he wore a suit and tie that matched the shock of silver hair that could be seen both jutting out from under his hat and along his upper lip. The smell of dirty, greasy hair permeated the entry as the man crossed the threshold. Passing where Elsie stood against the open door, small, dull gray eyes and teeth flashed at her as the back of his hand brushed along the front of her skirt, just above her knees. The corridor wasn't particularly wide, but there was plenty of room for the man to pass without coming into contact with her person. Shocked, Elsie suddenly flashed on the image of a shiny eel that had once thrashed about her mother's kitchen sink when she was a small child. She found the man equally as distasteful as the fish. Fighting her instinct to lash out at him for his unsolicited touch, she managed a small, but polite smile as she stepped behind the desk to provide him with the registration book.

"If you will just fill out the registry, please. I will have Peter carry up your bags."

Elsie had called on the handsome blonde fifteen year old after receiving Charles' telephone call. They had agreed to hire a village lad to assist when either trade was brisk or Elsie was on her own with guests in the residence and the lad had proved to be a wonderful employee. He emerged from the kitchen, having waited to hear his name before making his way down the corridor to the entry. His pace slowed as he approached the gentleman standing on the other side of Elsie. His nose picked- up the aromatic assault that accompanied the man and he was struck with an immediate sense of dislike as he observed the small beady eyes and unsettling smile that were fixed on his employer.

"I can prepare you luncheon if you wish, Mr…." she glanced down at the registry, "…Silver." She paused, struck by his fitting moniker. "...or tea later in the afternoon. Dinner is at seven-thirty this evening, breakfast from seven until eight-thirty. You are with us for only this evening?"

"I had a bite mid-morning, so tea this afternoon would be lovely. I was planning only one night, but the beauty of my surroundings…" he leaned towards her with an ugly grin, "…may lead me to stay an additional day, Mrs. Carson.

Elsie leaned back slightly, Mr. Silver's unpleasant voice and untoward remark as off putting as his odor. She fought again to muster a polite smile, "I see. If you would just let either my _husband_ or me know, we would be happy to accommodate you for another evening, Mr. Silver. Please let Peter know if there is anything else you require before tea. Room two please, Peter."

Handing Peter the key, Elsie was distracted from noticing Mr. Silver reaching for her. A cold, clammy hand was suddenly wrapped around hers' as he leaned even further across the desk, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Carson. I know I am going to enjoy my stay."

Elsie snatched her hand from his grasp and shot him a dirty look, unable to hide her disdain any longer. "I must get on." She fought the desire to run down the corridor as she felt his eyes on her. Safely inside the kitchen, she immediately stuck her hands under the faucet, trying to wash away any trace of his touch.

Elsie was grateful that the off-putting Mr. Silver had stayed in his room for the next few hours, allowing her to attend to the previous week's bills in the small office that was located just past the front entry. The lodger emerged from his room just as the telephone began to ring. Slipping down to the bottom stair, the oily man craned his neck towards the open door of the small office as Elsie began to speak:

"Hello, love... The train is stuck where? Oh, dear…but you must get back as soon as you can…it's just, well, you just need to get back…No, I understand…well, if there is any way, please do… Yes, I know…All right…I love you…Goodbye."

Mr. Silver quickly retreated up the stairs, waiting for Elsie to emerge from the office before making his second ascent.

"Hello, Mr. Silver." Elsie made a point of picking up her pace as she spotted the man coming down the stairs. "Please sit wherever you would like. I will be right back with the tea."

No reservations on the books for that Monday, Elsie had given their pretty Irish maid Mona the day off, and was therefore stuck serving the man his tea. She felt fortunate that Peter had been able to join her at such short notice. The young man's presence in the house gave her a feeling of security. She returned with the tea tray, fighting to maintain a pleasant demeanor as she felt Mr. Silver's unsettling gaze follow her every move. Passing the cup to the man, she almost dropped it as he ran his fingers over the back of her hand. She turned to make a hasty retreat from the room when Mr. Silver implored, "Won't you please join me, Mrs. Carson? I would be most appreciative of your company."

"I am afraid I have many things to attend to in the kitchen, Mr. Silver. I am quite the maid of all work today." She managed a small smile as she backed towards the kitchen.

"Only a few minutes, please. I am rarely afforded such lovely company. Surely you wouldn't begrudge a paying customer your courtesy."

She found his words quite objectionable. Their business was one held in the highest regard and he had talked as though she were a prostitute in a brothel.

"Mr. Silver, it is quite impossible for me to stay out of the kitchen."

"Then I shall join you."

Elsie was shocked at his insistence, "I am afraid that would be quite unconventional, Mr. Silver. My husband would be quite upset with me if he found out I had let a guest into the kitchen."

"Our little secret, my dear Mrs. Carson. Please. I am quite starving for some human contact."

Again she found his words suggestive and improper. "Please don't think me rude, Mr. Silver…"

He interrupted, "I shall only think you rude if you deny me, Mrs. Carson. Now, I am following you into the kitchen."

Peter suddenly appeared from the corridor, having heard the last bit of the conversation _o_n his way down the stairs. "Everything all right, Mrs. Carson?" He was alarmed by the look of obvious distress on his employer's face.

"Ah, Peter..." Elsie couldn't hide the relief in her voice, "…it seems Mr. Silver is quite insistent that he have company for his tea, but unfortunately you and I are needed in the kitchen."

He usually took no part in any of the food preparation, but he followed Elsie's lead. "Yes, yes, Mrs. Carson. Lots to do."

Mr. Silver shot Peter a menacing look, "You must agree to be in on our secret, Peter. I am choosing to take my tea in the kitchen and Mrs. Carson is afraid it will upset Mr. Carson. You won't tell will you, my boy?"

Peter glanced up at Elsie's pleading face before answering, "Mr. Carson is a very proper person, Mr. Silver, I really don't think he would…"

"Which is why none of us will tell him. Take the tray into the kitchen, Peter." It was apparent Mr. Silver was losing his patience, his words were extremely sharp.

The discomfort Elsie had felt instantly turned to fear. Mr. Silver was a large man, and while Peter was a sturdy lad, she was unsure that both she and he could fend off the man if he became violent.

Having received a nod from Elsie, Peter picked up the tray, quickly stepping between the man and Elsie as the trio made their way into the kitchen.

Mr. Silver settled himself into a wooden chair near the fireplace, his eyes never leaving Elsie's form as she made her way around the kitchen. Realizing she had to make Peter's presence in the kitchen plausible, Elsie quickly set him to peeling potatoes.

"And where is your very proper Mr. Carson anyway?" Elsie and Peter both jumped as Mr. Silver's voice broke the silent tension in the room.

"He should be here any moment. His train has certainly already arrived." Elsie looked at Peter for support.

"Yes. He should be here any minute. I expect we'll see him very soon."

Mr. Silver raised an eyebrow as he digested the lies he was being fed. He knew very well Mr. Carson's train had not arrived. "I see. Well, I look forward to seeing him again." Mr. Silver startled both Elsie and Peter as he suddenly rose to his feet. He began to skulk around the kitchen, running his fingers over various items that rested on the counters and shelves. Both Elsie and Peter kept an eye on the man as they continued with their tasks.

Peter had to pass where Mr. Silver stood in front of the small walk-in pantry in order to deposit his bowl of peel into the pot that was dumped onto the compost pile at the end of each day. He had almost cleared the man when he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Mr. Silver threw open the pantry door, using great force to fling the boy against shelving at the back of the small room. Peter was knocked unconscious as his head banged against one of the thick wooden shelves.

Elsie screamed as she saw the boy fly through the doorway. She ran towards the door leading to the dining room, but Silver grabbed the wooden chair from the fireplace and flung it across the room, knocking her to the floor.

The shock and force of the blow rendered Elsie immobile for a moment. She had almost caught her breath, pushing herself up onto her knees when she heard the sound of breaking glass. Looking over her shoulder she found Mr. Silver advancing on her, a broken wine bottle in his hand.

"Your husband's train is stuck, Mrs. Carson." He kicked the chair out of the way, "I heard you on the telephone, you lying bitch. On your back." He was now standing over her, the jagged end of the bottle pointed at her.

Elsie rolled over and tried to scramble backwards on her hands, but Silver stepped on the span of skirt that spread between her legs. "Stop moving. The more you move the more I will hurt you." Elsie let out a scream, but it was strangled as the man dropped to his knees, pinning her right leg under him as his placed his free hand on her throat, the bottle only inches from her face.

"Shut your mouth. Scream again and I cut your throat." His face was only inches from hers' as he hissed the words.

Tears streamed out the corners of Elsie's eyes, her lungs burning from a lack of oxygen. Silver loosened his grip around her neck and she choked on the air that blessedly filled her lungs. The struggle to breathe distracted her enough to allow him to unpin her leg and move to the side the right side of her body. She looked down in horror as she felt his hand move up the inside of her right leg.

She tried to squeeze her legs shut, but he placed his knee on her thigh, pulling his hand out from under her skirt and slapping her hard across the face. He stuck his hand back under her skirt, gripping tightly just above her right knee. "Don't fight. Don't fight me, you bitch."

Elsie closed her eyes as the pain from his slap pulsed with each of her rapid heart beats. She fought to distract herself, her thoughts suddenly going to Anna. This was what that sweet girl had endured- and survived. Elsie clung to the fact that Anna had indeed survived and so could she. Knowing there was no escaping the man or his weapon, she now struggled to focus her thoughts on Charles. She pictured his face. He was so beautiful to her; his gentle eyes, warm smile and strong nose.

Charles' image was ripped from her mind as she not only felt, but heard the man pull apart the seam of her knickers, leaving her completely uncovered, her skirt and slip pushed up around her waist. Elsie whimpered as she felt his hand grab her thigh, forcing her legs apart. A sob escaped her throat as she could hear him undo his trousers, the stench of him filling her nose as he lowered his pants. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut in anticipation of the horrors that were about to be unleashed but a sudden loud slam startled her and she willed herself to open her eyes.

Her vision blurred, she watched as a dark figure dragged Silver off of her, his pasty white legs kicking wildly within the confines of the trousers that were pooled around his ankles, the wine bottle flying out of his hand, rolling under the butcher block table in the center of the room. She managed to lift herself up onto her elbows as the figure pulled her attacker out the back door.

Legs shaking, Elsie struggled to her feet, holding onto the butcher block table for support as she crossed towards the pantry. She managed to open the door, sinking to her knees next to the prone form of Peter. The young man was still unconscious, but he was breathing and she could detect a strong heart beat when she placed her hand on his chest. She could hear shouting, but her pulse thumped so hard in her ears, she couldn't concentrate on making out the words or the voice. She crawled back out of the pantry, managing to make it to the kitchen sink before retching. Struggling to stay on her feet, she stumbled her way to the telephone that sat on the small table on the far side of the room.

"The police, please. Emergency." Elsie's hoarse voice croaked out the words Thankfully, the transfer was made quickly and she managed to form the words, " An attacker...Carson house… Brouncker road…back garden," before she passed out.

Unbeknownst to Elsie, Charles had managed to get a ride from where his train was stuck in Leeds. Henry Talbot was on his way to Downton from Huddersfield to see Lady Mary when he saw the tall figure of the former butler walking away from the train station. Charles was headed towards the home of a longtime acquaintance when the young man had spotted him. Charles gratefully accepted Talbot's offer. There was something about tone of Elsie's voice over the phone that had set off an alarm in his head and he was desperate to get home to her.

The young man's fast, yet skilled driving allowed Charles to make it home in a record amount of time. Not wanting to disturb the new guest by entering through the front door, he had opted to slip along the side of the house and enter through the kitchen.

The slam Elsie had heard was that of the backdoor hitting the wall, knob imbedding into plaster, as Charles took in the horrific sight of broken furniture and Elsie's legs jutting out from under the form of the half-dressed man.

Flinging himself through the doorway, he wrenched the man off of Elsie, dragging the large, struggling body out the back door.

Pulling the man roughly through the yard, he lifted Silver up before slamming him to the ground, "What did you do to her? What the hell did you do to her, you bastard?!" Charles jerked Silver to his feet by his lapel and shirt. Pulling his elbow back and up, Charles hammered the man with a blow to his gut. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he forced the prone figure upright, rearing back with his right arm, delivering a bone shattering punch to the man's left cheekbone. He heard the jacket rip, but the tear was incomplete and Charles' mighty grip kept the man from hitting the ground.

Letting out a roar, he simultaneously pulled the Silver toward him as he issued a punch to the side of the head. Once again drawing the bleeding man back within striking range, he aimed for the man's right cheek. He felt the jaw dislocate as the blow landed. Finally letting go of the man's clothes, he watched the unconscious body fall in a heap to the ground. It was only now that the intensity of his efforts caught up with him. He leaned over, fighting to catch his breath, his eyes resting on the swollen, bloody face of his wife's attacker.

He forced air into his burning lungs before rushing back towards the house and through the now permanently opened door. His eyes went to the spot on the floor where he had discovered her earlier, but he saw uncovered floor. He scanned the room, finally discovering her slumped form at the base of the telephone table. Kneeling next to her, he placed his hand under chin, thrilled to find a strong pulse under her jaw. "Elsie! Wake up, love! Elsie!"

He was distracted by a groan as the pantry door swung open. He jumped to his feet, but the sight of Peter crawling out on his hands and knees erased his instinct for attack. The young man sat up, lifting his hand to the back of his head. "Are you all right, Peter?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson. Is she all right?"

Charles turned back to find Elsie's eyes slowly opening. She had to blink several times before she was able to focus on him. "Oh, Charles. Oh, thank God."

Charles pulled her into his arms, ignoring the throbbing pain of his right hand. "I've got you. I've got you…" He repeated the words over and over as Elsie sobbed against his chest.

"Should I call the police, Mr. Carson?" Peter had managed to climb to his feet, leaning against the butcher block for support.

Elsie lifted her face to look at Charles,"I did...I think. I think I did." Her left cheek was swollen and a small amount of blood had collected at the edge of her mouth. His eyes filled with tears as he took in her battered state.

"Mr. Carson?" The voice of Sergeant Willis confirmed the fact that she had indeed called the police. "Is everyone all right?"

Charles turned his attention to the shaken policeman. "I think we shall need to call Dr. Clarkson, but everyone is in one piece,Sergeant Willis."

"Mrs. Carson said the word "attacker…" Elsie flinched in Charles' arm as the word registered. "…on the telephone. I take it that is the gentleman in the garden?"

Charles gave a nod.

"PC Royle is with him."

"Good. I don't think I killed him, but I don't really care if I did." Charles tightened his arms around Elsie as he felt her shiver in his arms. "Let's get you off the floor, love." Helping to her feet, he only winced slightly as he flexed his right hand to get better purchase around her waist.

"Your hand, Charles." Elsie lifted his bloodied hand between her trembling fingers.

"I don't think I broke anything, Elsie. But you need to see Dr. Clarkson."

"I am fine, Charles. Sore and shaky, but fine. I am more concerned about Peter's head."

The young man struggled to focus on the Carsons, "Oh, I'm all right."

The policeman looked at Peter's eyes, "I am no doctor, but I would say he is probably concussed."

Peter fought not to cry as he looked at Elsie's swollen face. He swallowed as he turned to Charles, "I'll call the doctor. You need to get Mrs. Carson to lie down."

The policeman nodded in agreement, ushering Elsie and Charles towards the front of the house.

Charles took her to the couch, but she shook her head, her hoarse voice barely a whisper, "Can we please go upstairs? I can still smell him in here."

Charles brushed tears from her cheeks, "Of course, love."

It was a struggle, but with Charles and Sergeant Willis' help, Elsie managed to make it up the stairs and into their bedroom. Charles sat beside her on their bed, holding her trembling hand in his unhurt left. He held his head high, unable to look at her as she began her statement. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he listened to her fight to be understood, her voice weak and speaking obviously painful as she described everything that had transpired since Silver's arrival late that morning. His stomach tightened and he fought the urge to vomit as she told of the violent man knocking her down with the chair and threatening to harm her with the jagged wine bottle before slapping her. A sense of thankfulness like none he had known filled him as Elsie confirmed that he had stopped the attack before Silver had managed to violate her with penetration. He allowed himself to weep openly, such was his relief at the news. He took a moment to collect himself, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve before sharing his brief statement.

"I am very sorry, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson. We will have Dr. Clarkson attend to the man after he sees you, but he will certainly remain in custody for the time being, have no fear on that account."

"Thank you, Sergeant Willis. Will you please check on Peter?" Elsie tightened her hand around Charles'.

"Of course. I will wait with him until the doctor gets here, if he isn't here already." The policeman gave them a sympathetic smile and was almost out the door when Elsie struggled to call out, "Would you please remove his things from room number two?"

"I will see to it personally, Mrs. Carson." He gave one last smile before letting himself out of the room.

"Let's get you out of these clothes, love."

Elsie's tear stained, swollen face looked up at him, "Burn them. I don't want to ever see them again. Will you burn them, Charles?"

"Oh course. Of course I will burn them."

"Everything. Even my shoes."

"Everything, love." Charles helped her stand as her fingers fought to undo the three small buttons at the back of her neck. Charles' stiff fingers were of no help with the small cloth colored knots, but he was able to unzip the back of the dress with his left hand.

Elsie remained silent as she removed the dress, followed by her shoes, slip, brassiere, girdle and damaged tights. She could no longer control her emotions as she moved her hands to the waistband of what remained of her ripped knickers, her body convulsing with sobs.

Charles pulled her to him, gently caressing her bare back with his left hand. "Let me, darling." He carefully slid his left hand fingers inside the waistband, using his right thumb on the opposite side. Elsie dug her fingers into his arm as she fought to maintain her balance, stepping out of the silk rag.

He managed to get a light cotton gown over her head and was helping her into her dressing gown when there was a light knock on the door.

Elsie slowly climbed onto the bed, automatically curling up into the fetal position as Charles opened the door for Dr. Clarkson. The color drained from the man's face as he took in Elsie's disheveled appearance and swollen face, along with Charles' bloody and battered hand.

"Hello, Dr. Clarkson." Charles ushered his old friend in, gently closing the door behind him.

"Hello, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson. Please let me say how very sorry I am for what you have been through, both of you."

"Thank you, Dr. Clarkson. Is Peter all right?" Startled by Elsie's weak and raspy voice, the doctor swiftly crossed to her.

"He has a concussion, but will be fine. Your neighbor is seeing him home. I will check on him again this evening. Would you like to have my nurse present for your examination, Mrs. Carson?"

Elsie shook her head, "No. Charles can stay, if you don't mind."

Dr. Clarkson turned to the large, solemn man who answered with a nod.

She would be sore and bruised for several days, but Elsie suffered no broken bones or permanent damage to her body. Charles' right hand was given a similar diagnosis. Dr. Clarkson couldn't offer much more advice than that they apply ice to their respective face and hand and get as much rest as possible. Gently squeezing Elsie's hand, he promised to check on her the next day. With a gentle pat on Charles' arm, he let himself out of the bedroom.

Charles made his way to the other side of the bed gently wrapping his body around Elsie's curled form, his now bandaged right hand resting on her hip.

"It's my fault…"

"Don't." Elsie placed her hand on his wrist. "It is no one's fault but his. I won't hear another word. Just hold me, Charles. Please just hold me."

The couple fell into a deep sleep, not changing positions for six hours. The room was lit by a stream of silver moonlight coming through the window as Elsie opened her eyes. The soreness of her body was an instant reminder of the horrors from earlier in the day. She willed herself not to let the memories overwhelm her, forcing herself to roll over and look at Charles. Bathed in the moonlight, his gentle eyes were open, a warm smile on his lips. He leaned forward, placing a light kiss on her forehead. Finding comfort and solace in his embrace, she returned his smile as she ran her fingers through his hair, grateful she could still find beauty and comfort in something silver.


	11. 11 Prepared

Prepared

It was bitterly cold for early November, and for the umpteenth time, Charles was pleading with Elsie to change her mind about attending the village's Guy Fawkes Night celebration, or Bonfire Night as it was now commonly known.

"…but I don't want to go. It will be freezing."

Sitting at her vanity, Elsie looked at Charles' reflection, fighting not to laugh at her beloved, his red and white striped pajama clad arms folded and a deep scowl like that of a petulant child on his face.

"We'll bundle up and there will be the bonfires to keep us warm! I'll make plenty of coffee and the potato soup you love. We will be well prepared to deal with the cold."

Elsie, soft skinned and sweet smelling having just applied a cream to her hands arms and elbows, rose from the vanity, making her way behind the pillar of pouting that was Charles. Slipping her arms under his, she ran her hands over his chest, until she reached the middle of his shirt. Nimbly unbuttoning his top three buttons, she slipped one soft hand inside, fingernails gently running through the course salt and pepper curls on his chest. "Don't worry; I'll keep you warm, Charles." Charles mood was no match for her husky whisper and caresses. She smiled as she felt the muscles in his back relax against where her breasts were pressed. Within moments Charles had pinned her to the mattress, his lips nuzzling her ear. "You win." He raised his head to look at her, adding with a smile, "You always do."

November fifth proved to be mightily cold and Charles spent the day in hope that Elsie would see reason and give up her silly desire to attend the celebration. He was greatly disappointed when late in the afternoon he walked into the kitchen to find her filling flasks with coffee and thick leek and potato soup. "They should stay nice and warm in these new flasks." Charles had responded with a deep sigh, leaving the room to change into his long johns and an additional pair of socks.

Elsie began to load her large basket with the flasks, a loaf of bread, and a tin of chocolate biscuits. She quickly added cloth napkins, several spoons, and six ceramic mugs before closing the lid. She knew she was taking far more than they would need, but she wanted to make sure she was prepared. She was just reaching for the basket strap buckle when she remembered the spare bottle of whiskey that sat on the top shelf of the pantry. She debated for a moment, finally settling on taking it. If they didn't drink it, fine; but if Charles was being particularly cranky, she would add a wee nip to his coffee to calm his nerves and warm him up. Bottle retrieved and neatly tucked in the basket, she tightened the buckle, a satisfied and excited smile on her lips.

The cold had obviously kept many of the villagers from attending the festival; the crowd was sparse, mostly gathering around the bonfires or the wagons providing hot mulled wine and other warm drinks.

"I don't think you are going to get the full Bonfire Night experience, Elsie." Charles words were muffled by the scarf he wore wrapped around his neck and face. His eyes were his only discernable body parts between his shoulders and the top of his head. Elsie was equally bundled, a scar wrapped around her head, another around her neck. While he could only see her eyes, he could tell she was smiling as he watched the firelight reflection twinkling in the seas of deep blue.

"They are still doing the firework display. The wind is calm enough. I heard a man say." Elsie had lowered her muffler as she spoke. She began to peer around the crowd, letting out a happy cry as she spotted heavily bundled Richard Clarkson and Isobel Crawley making their way towards them.

"I am delighted to see you are as crackers as we are to get out in this cold!" Isobel Crawley smiled warmly at the ex-butler and housekeeper she had grown quite familiar with over her years in Downton.

"Hello!" Elsie turned to give Charles a triumphant look, "Charles said we wouldn't see a soul we knew here. Thank you for proving him wrong."

Richard gave Charles a warm smile, "Is this your first Bonfire Night in the village, Mr. Carson?"

Charles shook his head, pulling down his muffler to reveal a small smile, "First and hopefully last."

"It isn't usually this cold. I am afraid I talked Mrs. Crawley into turning down an offer to eat one of Mrs. Patmore's delicious dinners in the warmth of the dining room at the Abbey in order to freeze with me while sipping mulled wine and dining on old Mrs. Wetherby's mince pies."

In truth, it had been Isobel who had done the asking. She had spent most of her time in the company of the Dowager Countess since her split with Lord Merton. Their relationship had eased into a fairly pleasant and often entertaining distraction, but a little bit of Violet Crawley went a long way. "I am delighted to be out in the village for the celebration." She leaned over to Elsie, divulging, "And I needed a small respite from the Dowager. As the say, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder', or at least more tolerant."

Elsie let out a small laugh, quite delighted that Isobel felt comfortable enough with her to share a playful dig at the old bat. She had always admired the outspoken doctor's widow, finding her a kind and proactive ally over the years. She knew their social circles would never quite intersect, but she appreciated the fact that the progressively minded woman warmly and openly welcomed her to orbit her upper middle class sphere.

Richard and Charles had teamed up to find a suitable place where the foursome might set out their blankets. They hunted for a spot near enough a fire to receive warmth, but upwind so that smoke wouldn't be an issue. Charles spotted a small hilly area near one of the smaller fires that was fairly free of other villagers. The hill would give them a place to recline and watch the fireworks while allowing them to be near a fire, but still upwind of the smoke. Content that their partners were pleased with location, Isobel and Elsie gamely followed the men across the field.

"We have more than enough soup and coffee, Mrs. Crawley. I would be most pleased if you would share in our dinner." Along with being prepared with extra mugs and utensils, Elsie had also made easily three times the amount of soup, bread and coffee she and Charles would be able to consume.

"That would be delightful, but only if you are sure." Isobel found the prospect of warm soup versus cold mince pies quite appealing.

A pleased Elsie nodded, "I am quite sure."

The women enjoyed the feeling of the fire's heat against their backs as the stood and watched the men lay out the thick wool blankets against the slight slope of the hill. All four managed to get fairly comfortable, although the fire didn't provide as much heat as they had hoped. Mugs of soup were passed around, as well as coffee for Isobel and Richard, while Elsie and Charles drank theirs' from the flask lids. Elsie blushed as both Isobel and Richard complemented her on the rich, creamy soup. The quartet fell into easy, comfortable conversation as they waited for the firework display to begin.

Reaching into the basket to fetch an extra flask of coffee, Elsie's hand brushed over the cold bottle of whiskey which elicited a silly grin as she remembered her last minute addition to the basket. Isobel happened look at her at that exact moment, "You've got an interesting grin on your face, Mrs. Carson."

Elsie bit her bottom lip, embarrassed to be caught out. "It's nothing, I just…" she glanced up at Charles' quizzical face, worried he would be angry with her for bringing the spirit to the celebration. She sheepishly lifted the bottle from the basket, "I forgot I put this in."

She was surprised by the smiles that lit up Isobel and Richard's faces, but Charles positively shocked her by saying, "You mean we have been sitting here freezing all night and we could have had whiskey in our coffee this entire time?"

"I take it you would like me to open the bottle?" Elsie smiled warmly at her husband.

Charles reached out to her, "Why don't you let me do the honors?"

Elsie happily handed the bottle to Charles, moving out of the way so that he had access to the coffee.

Drinks dispersed, Isobel raised her glass, "To King James and good friends!"

Richard, Elsie, and Charles chimed back, "To King James and good friends!"

Good cheer and smiles abounded as the whiskey infused coffees were consumed. Charles refilled the vessels twice more before the fireworks started. The four friends basked in the relaxed glow the whiskey had provided, comfortably reclining to take in the pyrotechnics, "oohing" and "ahhing" as the sky was filled with a series of bright bursts.

A happy Charles wrapped his arm around Elsie, her head resting against his shoulder. "Do you still wish we'd stayed home?" she whispered in his ear as a champagne colored starburst filled the sky above them.

"Of course not. I am having a wonderful time." He pulled her tight against him, kissing her head, "I should have known you would have prepared for any and everything."

Elsie lifted her head to give him a kiss on the cheek, but stopped short as her eyes fell on the twosome the next blanket over. She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. Richard and Isobel were holding hands, their smiling faces resting cheek to cheek.

She snuggled back down against Charles smiling to herself, "Well, I hadn't prepared for that..."


	12. 12 Knowledge

Knowledge

"What do you think he is doing?"

Elsie and their young Irish maid Mona hung sheets on the line as Charles stood at the far end of the back garden, his hands clasped behind his back. He was looking in the direction of where the women hung the laundry, but he seemed to be deeply concentrating, his gaze towards the ground just past Elsie's legs.

"Mr. Carson is a very knowledgeable man, Mona. He has met princes and kings and prime ministers. I imagine he is contemplating something quite serious."

"Is that where his knowledge comes from? Meeting princes and prime ministers? I thought you went to school for knowledge?" The young woman's question wasn't impertinent, but sincere.

Elsie considered how to answer. It was true Charles had left school at eleven like most of the other working class lads his age, but he had been a voracious reader all his life; his tastes spreading from history to poetry to the classics, he generally had a reference for every occasion. This knowledge, along with his experiences as butler in a fine stately home, certainly made him a very educated man as far as Elsie was concerned.

"School is one way to obtain knowledge. But there is much knowledge to be gained through life experience, Mona. We gain knowledge from every one of our experiences, from the people we meet and the challenges we face. Life is an ongoing pursuit of knowledgea; taking what we have learned and applying it in ways that improve not only our lives, but the lives of those around us."

The young woman digested Elsie's words. "If you ask me, you are the one with the knowledge, Mrs. Carson." Securing the last sheet to the line, she picked up the empty basket, "Should I clean the dining room next?"

Elsie smiled at the pretty freckle faced lass, "Yes, please. Thank you."

Elsie was picking up a few dropped pegs when she felt her husband wrap his arms around her waist. Raising up so that her head rested against his chest, she looked up at him with a smile, "You seemed a man in deep contemplation over there, Charles. Have you some impressive bit of knowledge to impart?"

Charles gave her a funny look. "I don't think it is an impressive bit of knowledge, but I did figure something out."

"Do tell."

"When you don't wear a slip, I can see right through your skirt."


	13. 13 Denial

Denial

"I don't think Mona quite understands the way you want her to do the laundry." Charles stood in front of his cupboard surveying the stack of shirts that had been neatly pressed and stacked on the shelf below where his trousers hung.

Elsie looked up from the book she was reading in bed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean she is doing something wrong when she does the laundry. My shirts are drawing up."

"Drawing up how? Are the sleeves too short for your arms?"

"No. The sleeves aren't the issue. The neck doesn't fit right and the buttons are beginning to pull across my middle."

Elsie bit her bottom lip as she noted the stripes of Charles' pajamas seem wider, the fabric pulled taught across his back. It was true his clothes didn't fit him as well as they used to, but that had nothing to with Mona. "I haven't noticed a change in any of my clothes."

"Well, you wouldn't. You just cinch your corset tighter and you don't notice a difference."

"But in my night gowns. I don't notice any change. I can see that your pajama top is snugger than it used to be."

"And the waist band. I can hardly make a bow, the tie has shrunk."

"What about your trousers?"

Charles slowly turned to look at her, "What about them?"

"I noticed you moving the button over on your tweed trousers and coat the other night. Mona doesn't launder your suits, Charles. You take care of that."

"I have not put on weight."

"I didn't say you had."

He stared at her for a moment, frustrated by the conversation, "Oh, just read your book."

"Very well," she fought a grin as she lifted the novel a few inches off her lap, keeping her arm extended as she scanned for her place.

Charles gruffly shut the cupboard door and slumped into bed. She could feel him holding his breath, sucking in his stomach as he lay on his back next to her.

"You'll have to breathe sometime, darling."

Charles sighed, both of their eyes going to the hill of belly that had extended with his exhale.

"You aren't any better."

"I beg your pardon!" Elsie took great offense at his insinuation. She knew for a fact she had shed a few pounds over the last few weeks, cutting back on her portions and taking extra trips up and down the stairs to make up for the fact that she was no longer making countless trips through the stairwells and corridors of Downton Abbey.

"I don't mean your weight. I mean your eyesight. You need glasses."

"I most certainly don't. "

Charles turned on his side, propping his cheek against the palm of his hand, "Read to me."

"You don't like Jane Austen."

"Just read to me."

She sighed before beginning:

"_You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve yourself or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the want of fortune would make so very imprudent…"_

She turned to him in triumph, "Happy?"

"Now hold it here and read to me." Charles reached over with his hand and pushed the novel within eight inches of her face.

"_I have nothing…. to say against him; he is a most ….interesting young man; and if he had…" _

Charles pulled her hand down. "No. You don't need glasses."

"Ugh!" She tossed the book onto the floor, unable to deny she had squinted at the tiny script, her hand pushing against Charles' to create more distance between her eyes and the page the whole time she had read. "So where does this leave us?"

"Fat and blind, apparently."

She couldn't help but laugh at Charles' flippant answer. "Well, I'll make you a deal."

Charles reached over and took her hand, "I'm listening."

"I will go see the optician in Ripon next week if you will join me in taking a walk either in the morning or afternoon each day. And I will stop making so many heavy cream soups and sweets. Do we have a deal?"

"I can still have a sweet every now and then, can't I?"

"Of course. I promise an apple tart at least once every two weeks."

Charles offered his hand, "Deal."

"I'd rather kiss on it."

He put his arms around her, "I'd rather kiss on you."


	14. 14 Wind

**Giving Mrs. P a little love...**

Wind

"It won't be some great love affair like you and Mr. Carson."

Elsie almost choked on her coffee. "Great love affair? You must know something I don't."

Elsie Carson and Beryl Patmore were bundled up under a quilt sipping coffee, gently rocking in an old wooden porch swing at the back of the Mason farmhouse on a chilly afternoon in late November. In the distance they could see the figures of two men, one small, one large, resting against a fence, deep in conversation.

"It's what Daisy says. She says they write books about people like you and Mr. Carson- people deep in love who are separated by some…how did she say it? People deep in love who are separated by some social code or structure. A forbidden love that only deepens with time."

"Goodness! What book is she studying now? _Madame Bovary_?

"Ooh," the little cook cooed, "what is that?"

Elsie shook her head with a smile, "Never you mind. So he's asked you then?"

"He has."

"Do you care for him?" She studied her friend's face for any spark of enthusiasm for the small farmer.

"Of course I care for him. I care for him because he cares for Daisy. He has been so good to her since William died. She has a chance at a life because of him, and if I were to accept him, I think she could have a chance at an even better life."

Elsie turned her body towards Beryl, cocking her head, "What do you mean?"

"Well, if I were to marry Mr. Mason, I would fully retire from Downton and come to live here. I could rent out my little house, or sell it. That, along with my pension and savings, could be used to put Daisy into a real school. She could receive a real education at university, or travel. She's so bright and she works so hard." The little woman had begun to cry, her maternal feelings towards the girl overwhelming her.

Elsie took her hand, "Do you think you would be happy here?"

Sniffing, Beryl looked around, "I do. There is a proper kitchen and a lovely garden and it feels like a real home." She looked at the men in the distance as she continued, "Mr. Mason is a very kind and gentle man. There is goodness in him that I haven't come across too many times in my life, and he treats me like I am a person, not just a cook or some tiresome old woman. He listens to what I have to say, cares about what I have to say."

Elsie squeezed her hand as the women sat in companionable silence until the wind suddenly picked up.

"Listen to that." Beryl closed her eyes, a peaceful smile on her face as she leaned her head back.

Elsie held still but she only heard the wind rusting in the trees and the tinkle of a tuneful metal wind chime that hung off the side of the porch. "I only hear the wind and the chimes."

"Exactly. Isn't it lovely? You only hear the sounds of the earth and the sky out here. There's a peacefulness to this place. It makes me happy to be here."

Elsie squeezed the woman's small hand, "It sounds to me as if you have decided."

"You know, I think I have."

Looking out at the lush Yorkshire countryside, the old friends continued to hold hands as the soft wind and music of the chimes caressed them.


	15. 15 Order

**The names are a silly tribute to the McNallys :) And you might want to get a tissue if you are as tender hearted as I am.**

Order

"Oh! Look at this!" The man passed a worn leather covered book to his wife. "There's loads of stuff in here." The trunk was pushed into a back corner of the shed that was located behind the recently purchased two-story cottage on Brouncker Road. The couple knew the house had once been a small hotel run by a man and his wife from the mid-twenties until the early forties, and that in 1948 it had been converted into a home for handicapped adults called Rebecca's House which remained in operation until 2010. It had sat empty until 2015, when the couple, Kevin and Jane Gibbs, bought it with grand plans of gutting it and renovating it into their dream home.

Nothing was left in the house itself, but Kevin happened upon the trunk as he was examining the shed to determine the most effective way to demolish it. Now, their Iphone flashlight apps engaged, Kevin and Jane began to forge into the long forgotten contents within the battered box.

"I think it is a ledger. Very detailed. Whoever kept this was all about order." Jane gently turned the pages, examining the precise handwriting in which dates, names, addresses, and payment amounts were recorded.

"Probably from when it was a hotel," Kevin guessed, picking up two books from the trunk's top tray. Flipping open the cover of the first one he read, "_Plain Tales from the Hills_ by Rudyard Kipling, publish date 1888. This might be a first edition. Check into that. And _Leaves of Grass_ by Walt Whitman, publish date 1900. Who knows? We may have uncovered some treasure."

"Don't get your hopes up," his pragmatic wife warned as she picked up a small picture frame that had laid under the books. "And who are you?" She flipped the frame over in her hand, "The frame might be usable if I clean it up." She gently removed the velvet backing, holding the back of the portrait up to the light, "Alice, 1878.' Maybe Alice was the wife?"

"Maybe. Check this out." Kevin grunted as he pulled a large wooden box from inside the base of the trunk. "Let's see…" He opened the lid to find a giant collection of yellowed envelopes neatly stacked and bundled inside. "There must be at least five thousand letters in here."

"Let's take them back to the hotel. It's getting cold. We can come back and look some more in the morning." Jane returned the ledger, books and frame to the trunk, gently shutting the lid before she and Kevin left for the night.

Showered and clad in clean pajamas, the couple climbed onto their king size bed and opened the box.

"Let's just open one bundle at a time. There appears to be some sort of order." Jane handed Kevin the top stack.

"This first one is dated April 9, 1926. _'My dearest Elsie, It is finally here. Our wedding day…'_ so the lady in the photo wasn't the wife. Elsie is the wife."

"Super. Elsie. Go on."

_"My dearest Elsie, It is finally here. Our wedding day. Although I was sixty-three on my last birthday, I suddenly feel like a lad of sixteen. It is as if my life is finally beginning. I know our time together as man and wife will not be terribly long, perhaps fifteen years, twenty if we are lucky, but I do feel blessed to know that my happiest days are ahead of me, for nothing could make me happier than to have you by my side. I meant it when I said I wouldn't marry anyone else. You are the only one for me, my Elsie. Your Charles."_

"Well, I'm in love. How wonderful is that? At sixty-three to write a love letter?" As Jane gushed about Charles, Kevin began to look into the other envelopes in the stack.

"Janie, there is one for everyday." He glanced at the deep box.. "I think he wrote her every single day they were married."

"No way!"

"Look at the box. There are definitely more than five thousand letters here."

"They married in 1926 and Rebecca's House opened in 1948. They could have been married for close to twenty years if they both lived long lives. They would have been safe here during the war, so yeah- What? Six thousand or so letters? That is amazing."

Kevin began to pull bundles from the box.

"Stop!" Jane put her hand on his, "Keep them in order. Elsie did. We should, too."

Kevin carefully replaced the bundles, returning to his original stack.

For the next six hours, Kevin and Jane drank coffee and read bits and pieces of Charles' love letters aloud.

_"…who would have thought our first day of business would be marked with cows invading the front garden…"_

_"…I am still delighting at the memory of you climbing into the bathtub with me, even if I had made a fool of myself…"_

_"…you will be the most wonderful godmother to your namesake, the lovely Elisabeth Bates…"_

_"…you were such a comfort to me today as we watched the end of an era as they laid the Dowager to rest…"_

_"…I know you are still angry that I lost my temper with Peter. I hope you will accept my apology, or at least unlock the door so I can apologize in person…"_

_"…it was such a privilege to watch you with Becky today. You are so wonderful with her. Anyone can see she worships you…"_

_"…I promise to apologize to Mrs. Mason. I honestly thought she had the hat on backwards…"_

_"…you are right, I am quite smitten with that Gloria Swanson, but I think it is because her eyes remind me of yours'…."_

_"…I am doing my best to forget about the dent in the fender. I should have known better than to let a twelve year old drive the car, but you know I have a soft spot for George Crawley…"_

_"…I was so happy to look up and see your smiling face as I stood at the cricket pitch for the last time. We might not have won, but I had the loveliest girl in the crowd cheering me on…"_

The sun was coming up and they were only in the early 1930s. "We have to get some sleep, Janie."

"All right, but can we just look at the last one? I have to know what it says."

Kevin yawned, "Fine. But then we will get some sleep, agreed?"

"Agreed. "

He carefully removed the remaining stacks, maintaining their exact order. "I think that one must be the last." Jane carefully slipped an envelope from the bottom of the stack. Pulling the letter from the envelope, she glanced at the date, but read no further. "No. This can't be right. It is in a different hand."

Kevin took the letter, silently reading it in its entirety. "No, darling, It is the last. Read it."

_"April 9, 1946, My dearest Charles, We made it. You once said we would be lucky if we made it to twenty years, and we have. You were already asleep, but I rolled over and gave you a kiss as the clock struck twelve. I do indeed consider myself lucky. Lucky to love you and lucky to be loved by you. Not a day has passed in the last twenty years that I haven't opened my eyes and smiled, knowing that you were by my side. The letters you have written me everyday of our married life are my most prized possessions. Individually they represent days, but collectively they represent our wonderful life and love._

_And now it is my turn to write you a letter._

_When I opened my eyes this morning, I knew something wasn't right. It was as if part of me didn't wake up. I turned over to look at you and I knew you were gone. You were so pale and your cheek was so cold against my hand. I got out of bed and fetched another quilt. I wanted to keep you as warm as I could. I called Dr. Adams, then John and Anna, and Lady Mary. And then I climbed back into bed and I wrapped my arms around you one last time._

_I don't know if you could hear me, but I sang our song to you. Dashing away with the smoothing iron, she stole my heart away. I hope you could hear me._

_You once told me you wanted to be stuck with me. Well you are, my darling. It won't be long before we will be together again. I love you. Your Elsie."_

Jane was openly weeping by the time she reached the end of the letter. Giving her a kiss on the forehead, Kevin reached over and gently took the letter from her, returning it to its place in the order.


	16. 16 Thanks

Thanks

"And how was your meeting with Lady Grantham? Did you provide Mrs. Baxter with all of the details for the Christmas Eve party?"

It was the first time since their retirement that either of them had been asked to the Abbey by their former employer and it was clear to Elsie that Charles was disappointed it had been she and not he who had been called upon. Little did he know he was the main reason for the meeting.

"It was fine. I could have answered Mrs. Baxter's questions over the telephone. I left her detailed instructions, but she is just a little nervous I suppose, but there was another reason Lady Grantham wanted to speak to me."

Charles ushered her into the entry, helping her out of her coat. "Oh yes?" He wrapped his arms around Elsie, pulling her against him as he rubbed his hands over her back to warm her. "Let's get you in front of the fire. She really should have sent you home by car."

Elsie closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation, "Mmmmm...she offered, but I decided to walk. I wanted some time to make a plan."

"That sounds intriguing."

"She has asked me to do her dirty work."

"Even more intriguing. And what does this dirty work entail?"

Leaning back, she conjured her most winning smile, "I have to ask someone I love very much to do something he probably won't want to do."

Charles let his hands drop to her waist, "I am less intrigued."

Elsie sighed, "And you haven't even heard what it is yet. Let's have a cup of tea and I will present you with your task."

Charles shoulders slumped as he followed his wife into the kitchen.

* * *

"I feel a fool," Charles growled as he and Elsie stood in the corridor just outside the Great Hall of Downton Abbey.

"You look wonderful. Just smile and remember you are doing this for Lady Mary and Master George and Marigold and all the other children- and me."

Charles shook his head, unable to keep a smile from crossing his lips, "Very well."

They could hear the final strains of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" when she reached up and made a final adjustment. "Almost time. I'll see you inside." She squeezed his hand before slipping into the happy, boisterous throng.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Lord Grantham was well into his fourth glass of wine as he called the room to attention. "I believe we have a very special visitor who has agreed to make a stop and spread some merry cheer." A sudden jingle of bells could be heard as Mr. Barrow and Mr. Molesley opened the two main doors.

"Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas!" Cheers and applause rang through the hall as a tall, white bearded man in a deep crimson robe laden with a large bag of presents made his way into the room, his deep voice registering over the din. Master George escaped his mother's grasp, running full speed until he reached the man's knees. "And who do we have here? Why, Master George Crawley! Have you been a good boy this year?" The little blonde head nodded eagerly. "I am very glad to hear it!" The man began to retrieve gifts from his pack, handing out to young and old alike.

"Thank you, Father Christmas!"

"Thank you! Thank you!"

"Oh, thank you Father Christmas!"

The old man was treated to handshakes, hugs and winks as he made his way around the room. He was down to a single envelope in his pack when he finally spied her standing alone only in the far corner of the room. He quickly made his way to her side, "And have you been a good girl this year?"

The woman's beautiful blue eyes were set off by the vibrant azure dress she wore, allowing her to stand out among a crowd she had so often blended into in years past when adorned in her standard black evening dress. "I think I have been fairly nice, but you would have to ask my husband."

Father Christmas bent his bewhiskered face towards her, "Your husband thinks you have been perfect." He snuck a quick peck before presenting her with an envelope. "Five minutes," he gave her a wink and drifted back into the crowd.

Elsie Carson beamed as she carefully opened the envelope. _"Please meet me in the butler's pantry- bring punch."_

* * *

Punch glasses in hand, she stepped into the small room, so familiar and yet so foreign, Mr. Barrow having moved the desk to the center of the room and adding an ornate arm chair and small table in place of the side table Charles had used when polishing the silver. "You won't like this at all."

"You're right, I don't…" Charles voice startled her. He was now dressed in his dark suit, crimson robe and beard hanging over his arm. "…but it is no longer my domain."

She smiled and crossed to him, "I think it will always be your domain, Charles, but do you think Mr. Barrow will mind us being in here?" She handed him his glass of punch, using her now free hand to take the robe and beard from his arm and laying them over the armchair.

Charles raised an eyebrow, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"It wasn't too painful was it, Father Christmas? Did you enjoy it even a tiny bit? Everyone at the party loved it."

"As much as it pains me to say it, I enjoyed every second of it, well.." he reached up and rubbed his chin, "…with the exception of that itchy beard."

Elsie looked around the room, "One year ago tonight. Any regrets?"

Charles placed his free hand around her waist, pulling her to him, "No regrets. Well, maybe only regretting I didn't ask you sooner." He leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss before raising his glass. "A toast to my beautiful, clever, kind and perfect wife. I wake up each morning full of thanks that I get to spend my life with her."

Elsie blinked away a tear, "And to my handsome, wise and perfect husband. I wake up each morning full of thanks that he wants to be stuck with me."


	17. 17 Look

Look

"Are you sure we won't get too cold? Remember there was frost on the ground this morning."

Her back to him, Elsie rolled her eyes as she pulled a second quilt from the large cedar chest in the hall. "People have been sleeping out of doors since time began, Charles. We will be in the back of the wagon and not on the ground. Look outside. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and flowers are blooming. I even checked with Mrs. Patmore and she has no aches and pains so we will have a fine, clear night." She let the cedar chest lid drop with a bang to signal she was finished discussing it.

"What do you want to do for your birthday? Anything you want. Never in a million years did I think you would want to travel halfway across Yorkshire…" Charles was mumbling under his breath as he followed her downstairs, his arms laden with Wellington boots and a bag of extra clothes.

"I'm sorry, what's that you're saying? You are thrilled to fulfill your wife's birthday wish and spend the night with her under the stars in the most beautiful countryside on God's green earth?"

"Mmmmm…" Charles shook his head, his lips pursed in annoyance as Elsie led him into the kitchen.

Picnic hamper, bedding, lanterns, warm clothes and Wellies secured, as well as food and water for the horse, Charles boosted Elsie up into their rented wagon's seat before climbing next to her and taking the reins. He clicked his tongue confidently and with a tug of the leather strap they were on their way.

Their ride took nearly two hours as Elsie had her heart set on setting camp on a hillside overlooking the ruins of Jervaulx Abbey just north of Ripon. It had been a pleasant ride, beautiful scenery and easy, companionable conversation filling the time. Charles' mood seemed to lighten the further they traveled from Downton.

Their destination reached, Elsie jumped down from the wagon before Charles could assist her, calling back as she made long strides towards the edge of the hill, "Look at that. Doesn't it take your breath away?"

While Elsie gazed at the jagged outline of the ruins, Charles could look at nothing but his wife. The blend of gold, orange and pink light that filled dusk's horizon outlined her soft feminine form as a light breeze caught the curling tendrils of hair that had fallen loose during their trip; he found her to be child and woman at once, a glorious creation surrounded by creation itself. He was so overwhelmed he could only manage a whispered, "Yes, you do take my breath away."

Elsie turned back to him, a warm smile on her face as she extended her hand, "Do you understand why I wanted to come?"

Charles nodded his head as he made his way to her, taking her proffered left hand in his while wrapping his other arm around her waist. "Happy Birthday, love," he whispered into her ear before lightly kissing her neck.

They basked in the eventide a few minutes before agreeing they should light their lanterns and set up their makeshift camp in the wagon. Their quilts laid out over a thick bed of loose straw, Elsie assembled their light dinner as Charles tended the horse and secured the rest of their belongings. A meal of sandwiches, tea and fruit shared, Charles surprised Elsie by producing a small cake with a lit candle. "How did you hide that from me?"

"I am a very resourceful man, Mrs. Carson. Now make a wish before the wind makes it for you."

Candle blown and cake eaten, they climbed into the back of the wagon and settled in for the night, warmed by layers of heavy quilts and the other's body. Elsie gasped as she looked up. It seemed to have happened within the blink of an eye, but the sky was illuminated by the light of countless stars.

"Have you ever seen anything more glorious, Charles?"

He turned his head to look at her awe filled face, her beautiful blue eyes reflecting the sparkling cosmos above them. He wanted to tell her he had seen something more glorious, in fact he saw it every time he looked across their breakfast table, glanced over to his left while in their church pew; he looked upon glory in the reflection of the vanity mirror at the end of each evening and on the pillow next to him as he woke each morning.

"Charles, you aren't looking. Look up! Isn't it wonderful?"

Unable to look away from her profile, he smiled and answered, "Yes, it is."


	18. 18 Summer

Summer

The question caught her completely off-guard.

They had been cuddling on the settee, happily discussing possible destinations for a summer holiday when Charles suddenly turned to Elsie, "Why did you offer me your hand that day in Brighton?"

Elsie looked up from the small map on which she had been tracing her finger along the southern coastline, "What?"

Charles straightened his posture, the trace of a smile on his lips, "That day at the seaside, after Lady Rose's Season, why did you offer me your hand before we tread into the surf?"

"What has brought this on?" Elsie blushed slightly, feeling slightly off kilter from the abrupt, and she felt, leading question.

"It is just something I have wondered about."

She inhaled and opened her mouth to answer, but bit her bottom lip instead.

"Go on." Charles leaned towards her, his hands neatly folded in his lap.

Flustered, she turned her head away from him, "I just…well… you seemed unsure of yourself and I thought you would feel more secure…"

Charles leaned his head even closer to her, "Steady. I believe _steady _was the word used that day."

"Very well," she nodded, "I thought you would feel _steady_ if I held your hand."

"And that is the only reason?"

She crossed her arms as she leaned back against the settee, "What are you fishing for, Charles Carson?"

"I'm not fishing for anything. As I said, it is just something I have wondered about."

Elsie looked at him for a moment before pushing herself up off the seat and taking a few steps towards the fireplace. "Do you remember the night of the ball when I found you in the pantry sleeping in your chair? You had a cup of tea in your hand?"

Charles nodded, "I do."

She crossed behind the armchair, resting her hands on its back, "I looked at you sitting in that chair and realized you and I were getting on. I believe I said that to you on the beach."

"You said we were getting on and could afford to live a little."

Elsie raised her eyebrows, "You have a good memory."

His voice was steady, but soft as he replied, "You don't forget the words that change your life."

She slipped around to the other side of the chair and took a seat, his words causing her to feel flushed and light headed.

"You were telling me about when you found me in the chair."

Elsie fought to gather her wits, "Well, as I said, I realized we weren't as young as we once were and I began to wonder how much longer you would go on with such a demanding work load."

"But what about you?"

Elsie looked at him blankly, "What about me? I had Becky. I knew I would be going on."

Charles sat back with a look of confusion on his face, "Which is what has made me wonder. In taking my hand…"

"In taking your hand, I was being..." she sighed, frustrated with herself. "…reckless, or… I don't know." She stopped speaking, her focus fixed on Charles face as the summer day came back to her in an instant. She was suddenly awash in the feelings she had experienced when she offered her hand; feelings as true and present as if she were back on the beach, sand under her feet and the warm sun on her face.

She rose from the chair and crossed back to the settee. He could see tears in her eyes as she leaned down and placed her right hand on his left cheek. "I do know. I looked up and there you were. You and your pushed up trousers and sleeves and your mussed hair and your worried face…and just you: my dearest friend. I needed you in that moment. I needed you to trust me and to depend on me…and to want to touch me. I needed you to need me because I needed you. That's the truth,:" She let out a small laugh as tears spilled down her cheek, "I had no grand designs on our future, Charles. I did it on impulse." She placed her other hand on his right cheek, leaning down until their foreheads touched, "I just needed you."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Charles pulled her onto his lap, her head resting against his right shoulder. He laced his left hand fingers through hers' as they sat in silence, the impact of her confession still resonating.

Elsie finally looked up at him with a small smile, "You said, 'you don't forget the words that change your life'."

Charles ran his hand down her back and along her hip, pulling her tightly against him, "I did."

"I've told the truth. It's your turn."

"The truth? The truth is your words gave me hope. I had never even considered it possible that you might think of me as more than a peer; a friend certainly, but nothing more, but then you said _we _could afford to live a little- you held my hand and said _we- _and you changed my life because I suddenly had hope that you and I could be _we_."

Elsie kissed away a tear that was sliding down his cheek before leaning back against his shoulder and wiping her own eyes. She let her gaze travel over the room before it fell on their entwined hands and matching gold wedding bands. She shook her head and happily sighed, "All of this because of an impulse on a summer's day."

Charles lifted her hand to his lips, gently kissing her wedding ring, "Summer in Brighton, then?"

Elsie nodded, "Summer in Brighton."

* * *

**I think the postcard on the bulletin board said "Brighton"-? Using it for this anyway... Hope everyone is having a lovely day- you are all so gorgeous and kind with your time spent reading and reviewing. THANK YOU**


	19. 19 Transformation

**Pure fluffy silliness. A little "Sex in the Village" for your Friday :) Hope everyone has a fantastic weekend!**

Transformation

A knock at the door sent Elsie running excitedly down the corridor. Beryl Mason, nay Patmore, was due to arrive for tea, their first visit since she had married Mr. Mason three weeks before.

The women exchanged hugs and smiles before Elsie ushered her back to the kitchen for sandwiches and tea.

Elsie was pleased to see a glow in Beryl's complexion. She recognized it as the same transformation she herself had experienced after her first few days of marriage, the result of vigorous exercise and a state of bliss.

"So…"

"So?" Beryl tried to hide her grin with her tea cup but it was no use.

"You can't hide from me, madam! So how is married life?"

The newly retired little cook stifled a giggle, "It is very…surprising."

"I take it by your smile you mean surprising in a good way?"

"You tell me. You've been married much longer than I have, Elsie Carson."

"Ah, but Mr. Carson and Mr. Mason are two very different men, Beryl."

"I hope for your sake they aren't all that different, Elsie." Elsie choked on her mouthful of tea as both women broke into a fit of giggles.

Temporarily gaining her composure, Elsie leaned towards Beryl, "I do agree. It is surprising. You do mean..…you have…?" Elsie lifted her eyebrows twice.

Beryl's cheek burned red as she nodded her head, "Often."

"Oh!" Elsie gasped and smiled, "How… nice…well…goodness."

The women both laughed nervously. Their friendship had certainly grown over the years, but they had never shared details of such an intimate nature before.

The small woman looked at her blushing friend, "I had truly only expected friendship and maybe a kiss or a cuddle on a cold night, but it's…it's quite nice."

Elsie reached over and patted her hand, "I am so happy for you. And, yes. It is quite nice."

"Were you shocked at all?"

Elsie was caught off-guard by the question. "Shocked by what?"

"By…all of it. By him. By how," Beryl looked into her cup, "…how good it feels."

Elsie bit her lip, quite embarrassed, but at the same time, delighted to know she wasn't alone in finding pleasure in the marriage bed.

"I've embarrassed you, Elsie. I'm sorry."

Elsie looked over at her, "I was shocked. I had always heard that it was something we women endured for the sake of our marriage. Whoever came up with that whopper was obviously married to the wrong man."

Beryl chuckled; relieved she hadn't offended her friend.

Elsie leaned against the table as she continued with a whisper, "And they certainly aren't the same men on the street as they are in the bedroom, are they? They do change, don't they?"

Beryl giggled, "That's no word of a lie. Isn't it strange to think of all the men we know…"

"Oh, Beryl!" Elsie laughed.

"Just think, if Mr. Molesley ever gets up the nerve to ask Mrs. Baxter…"

Elsie threw her hand over her mouth, her laughter uncontrollable at the thought. "Stop!"

Beryl grinned, "But I imagine the same has been said about Mr. Carson and Mr. Mason."

Elsie managed to catch her breath, "I suppose you are right."

"He doesn't…" Beryl broke into a whisper, "…make you call him "Mr. Carson" when you…" she used their shared code of raising her eyebrows twice.

"Beryl! No!" Elsie blushed and bit her bottom lip, the memory of calling him "Mr. Carson" only that morning during the throes of passion still fresh in her mind.

"Somehow I feel he must wear a bow tie and call you "milady" in the course of the proceedings."

Elsie shook her head in guilty amusement, laughter issuing deep from within her. "Beryl, you must stop!"

Her friend laughed, the image of a dignified Charles Carson in nothing but a bow tie burning on her brain.

Elsie wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, her sides aching from laughter as she lifted the teapot from the table, crossing to the kettle for more hot water, "I will have you know there has been quite a transformation from stoic butler to loving husband, Beryl Mason."

"I'm glad to hear it. I just hope that polishing all that silver over the years paid off." She received a puzzled look from Elsie. Picking up her cloth napkin and the silver sugar bowl in front of her, Beryl placed the tip of her index finger at the joint where the arm met the bowl and proceeded to rub little circles against the small nub. "Or would you prefer me to refer to it as "the ringing of the gong."

Elsie turned beet red, another memory from that morning coming back to her. "You are a wicked woman, Beryl Patmore."

Beryl vibrated with giggles, "But you knew exactly what I meant, Elsie Carson."

Elsie gave her a playful scowl as she returned to the table, refilling both their cups. "Nevermind that. "

Beryl took a sip of her tea before asking, "Do you think it is normal? I mean at our age? Or is it just the honeymoon period, do you think? Does it taper off after the first few months?"

Elsie bit her bottom lip and studied the table cloth for a moment. She knew Charles would find this conversation shocking and distasteful, but there was genuine concern on Beryl's face. She set her tea cup in its saucer before folding her hands in her lap, "It does taper off some I would say."

"I see." Beryl's disappointment was evident. "To once a week?"

Elsie looked at her in surprise, "What did you mean by "often"?"

Beryl gave her friend a confused look, "What did you think I meant by "often"?"

"Well how "often" does it happen now?"

Beryl paused for a moment, "Most nights, but not on Tuesdays or Fridays."

"Why not Tuesdays or Fridays?"

"I do my baking on Wednesday and Saturday mornings."

"I see." Elsie smiled as she lifted her tea cup to her lips. "I take it back. It doesn't taper off."

"You mean you and Mr. Carson…" Beryl once again lifted her eyebrows, "…more often than five times a week?

Elsie shook her head, "I don't think we need to get into…"

She was quickly interrupted, "Oh, we are getting into it. How "often" is "often", Elsie Carson?"

Elsie gave a quick look at the backdoor watching for her husband who was due to return from his trip to Ripon at any moment, "Well, every night now and at least every other morning." Elsie amused herself by adding, "But I don't bake."

Beryl's mouth hung open, "Every night and every other…and that is with it tapering off? Good Lord! What was it before?"

Elsie drew her face up into squint; her eyes squeezed shut as she admitted, "At least three times a day the first few months…"

"THREE TIMES A DAY?" Beryl exploded just as Charles entered through the back door, the basket on his arm filled with the various groceries, as well as a box of tea cakes from Elsie's favorite bakery in Ripon.

"Hello! Sorry I am late! The bus had a puncture two miles outside of the village. I had to walk the rest of the way, but I have your tea cakes," he continued to talk rapidly, busily putting away the groceries, not even taking the time to look at the two women who were both covered in a deep flush, Beryl's hand over her mouth and Elsie staring at her folded hands resting on the table in front of her. "I hope I haven't missed anything. I am anxious to hear how you are enjoying your new life on the farm, Mrs. Pat- Mason. Well, that will take some getting used to. I am afraid they only had three of the vanilla cakes you like, Elsie, the rest are cinnamon and apple. Here we are!" He turned and presented a lined tray filled with tea cakes, "Would miladies care for a sweet from a freshly polished tray?"


	20. 20 Tremble

**You might want to get some crackers to go with this cheese. But I would love to see her all dolled up...**

Tremble

"I still think the money could have been spent far more wisely."

Charles rolled his eyes, his reaction blocked from Elsie's view by the cupboard door that stood ajar. "You need new frocks, Elsie. There are dinners and luncheons that we are required to attend- like the Hospital Board tonight. You can't spend your life in the same two black dresses you've worn since before the war."

"No one looks at me in those dresses, Charles. What are they going to think now with this new hair and a new frock? "That Mrs. Carson has gone mad"- that's what they are going to think."

"I don't know. I haven't seen your hair or your dress. Now come out!"

"And the girl used a brush with black kohl on my eye lashes, Charles! And rouge. I don't know what I was thinking letting her carry on so…"

"I am sure it is fine. We are going to be late."

Elsie groaned, "But it doesn't feel right."

Charles leaned forward from where he stood at the end of their bed in an effort to catch a glimpse of his wife, "Would you please come out from behind there. What doesn't feel right?"

"Not yet. It doesn't feel right without a corset. Not for evening. And my arms. I have never shown this much of…me before."

Charles sighed heavily, "Women don't wear corsets anymore. Not Mrs. Crawley, not even the Dowager. And you have lovely arms. Now come out or I'm coming over there."

"Oh, very well, but you promise you will tell me the truth. I still have time to put on one of my other dresses…" Elsie emerged from behind the cupboard, her bottom lip tightly drawn between her teeth.

"Oh, Elsie…"

Elsie shook her head, looking down at the floor. "I knew it. I look ridiculous."

Charles had to sit on the edge of the bed, overwhelmed by the sight of his wife. The gown was a silver satin sheath topped with an ornate black lace overlay that hung beautifully to Elsie's full bosom. The toned arms that no one besides Charles and herself had ever seen were draped in sheer teal chiffon, a matching sash enhancing her hourglass figure. He had never seen her hair look more beautiful with a mass of elegant curls and loops sculpted at the base of the back of her head, Elsie's natural curls arranged in a way that they softly framed her face and drew focus to her brilliant blue eyes that were accented by the fine black mascara and liner.

"I knew it! I told you it was a waste of money." She turned back to hide behind the cupboard door, but Charles caught her hand, "Elsie Carson, you will, by no short measure, be the most beautiful woman at the dinner tonight. Please believe me."

She turned back and gave him a doubtful look, but allowed him to pull her to him.

"You have to see. Wait here." Charles gave her a warm smile before making a quick trip to the bathroom from where he returned carrying the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door. "Close your eyes."

Confirming her eyes were tightly shut, Charles closed the bathroom door and pulled Elsie's vanity stool in front of it, carefully balancing the mirror on top to provide her with the best vantage point. "Keep them closed." He took her hand and gently led her to a spot in front of the mirror. "All right. Open them."

Elsie took a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes, doubt still filling her face. She blinked several times. "It's…that's…that's not me."

Charles stepped up behind her and took her hand, "Do you feel my hand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then it is you because I am holding the hand of that beautiful woman in the mirror." He pulled her back against him, "Elsie, you are starting to tremble."

"It's just…"

He leaned down giving her a gentle kiss on her neck before murmuring in her ear, "Overwhelming?"

"Yes," Elsie smiled.

"I know. Now you know how I feel when I look at you all the time."

**Hope this link works...is the dress. Am posting the photo with story on tumblr- under user name jennyjenjen76**

** . **


	21. 21 Sunset

Sunset

_June 21, 1927_

_My dearest Charles, _

_ I received your letter in this morning's post. In a way I was surprised you had written given the limited time you have to accomplish the inventorying and packing up of the wine cellar at Grantham House, but in another way I wasn't surprised as you have never missed a day in over a year now of jotting down at least a few lines to brighten my day. I never feel more fortunate or more loved than I do when I unfold a piece of thick ivory parchment and see your telltale scratching of ink across the page. _

_ My day has been a busy one. Mona has a summer cold and, as you know, Peter is away visiting cousins for the week. The only lodger is that Mrs. Markingham you met just before you left, but she is as much trouble as tending to a full compliment of lodgers. I am trying to be patient as I know her neediness is borne of loneliness, however, I will not be sad to see the back of her tomorrow. _

_ Mrs. Crawley has asked us to tea Thursday week. I told her I would have to confer with you but knew of nothing that would stand in the way of our accepting the invitation. I do so enjoy her company and am quite sure Dr. Clarkson will be joining us. Maybe they have some news to impart? Perhaps it is wishful thinking, but wouldn't it be delightful if they were to be wed? _

_ It has been lovely to watch their courtship from afar. It seems such a different dance compared to that of younger people. I suppose the wisdom that comes with life experience changes perspective and priorities when you are of a certain age. I watch Mona with her young beau and I see such eagerness and impatience pass between them in a desire to be alone (it probably doesn't help that you watch young Pegg with an eagle eye whenever he pays visit. You rarely leave them alone for even five minutes. You remind me of my father in that respect and I love you all the more for it). Mona and Mr. Pegg have their whole lives ahead of them, and yet Mrs. Crawley and Dr. Clarkson seem to move at such a glacial pace in comparison, although they have far less time to share together. _

_ It occurs to me that we never did "court," at least not in a proper way, although I suppose that is what we were unknowingly doing each night we shared a glass of wine or sherry across the small table in my sitting room (talk about a glacial pace! Perhaps this is why I told you I thought you would never ask when you finally did-). It is very strange to think that we spent all that time together and yet were apart. _

_ I will have to close soon as I am sitting in the back garden with only the fading sun to light my page. I miss watching the sun set with you as has become our custom. You remarked the other day how sad it was to think of the many we missed while below stairs all those years. I agreed with you at the time, but now I think I have changed my mind. This sweet and rich life we now share allows me to appreciate things much more fully than I ever could have before. Perhaps in missing all those other sunsets and passing all those nights- together, yet apart, God was preparing us to more fully appreciate the magnificence of the sunsets we now share and the nights we spend together in each other's arms. _

_ It is nearly dark so I must say goodnight. I miss you terribly. I am consoling myself with the fact that there is only one more sunset before I see you again. _

_All my love,_

_Your Elsie_


	22. 22 Mad

Mad

The ride and picnic had been Charles Blake's idea. Her old friend was in the area for a few days and, although he knew she was well and truly in love with Henry Talbot, he couldn't resist the opportunity of sharing time with a woman he found not only beautiful, but clever and entertaining.

Charles was certainly no stranger to the lands that belonged to the Grantham estate, but Mary was sure she had never shown him the Deer Lady's Lake, an obscure loch located in a woody area on the southern edge of the estate. She herself hadn't visited the area since she was a teenager. In her childhood it had been a destination for dares given its tie to the mysterious and terrifying Deer Lady. The legend, certainly born of the drunken imaginings of a some villager long ago, told of a mystical creature, the upper half of her body being that of a beautiful woman, her lower half that of a doe, who roamed the wood looking for innocent victims to capture and drag to the lake to be fed to the monster that lurked in its depths.

"And is there some sort of defense we can mount if we see this deer woman?" Charles and Mary were resting the horses with a walk after a spirited race from the stables to the edge of the woods.

"She is "The Deer _Lady_," Charles. Show her some respect. And no, I don't believe there is any particular means of fighting her given that she doesn't exist."

Charles gave her a grin, "Very well. I would hate to ruin our bottle of champagne having to bash some centaur woman over the head."

"It is a very good bottle, Charles. I would let her drag you off before I would let a drop be wasted."

"Of all your qualities, I believe your priorities may be your most attractive."

He was being treated to one of her patented cool Lady Mary smiles when they heard laughter and voices in the distance.

Charles shot her a playful look of surprise, "Perhaps we are in luck and she has already found her victim."

"Shhh!" Mary waved him into silence before whispering, "I think I recognize them." They halted the horses and stood still as the voices carried over the breeze once more. "Carson and Mrs. Carson."

"The old butler and housekeeper?"

Mary smiled, "Former butler and housekeeper, but yes." She dismounted and handed her reins to Charles. " Wait here. I'll be back."

She had only to venture about fifty yards into the dense woods before she had a clear view of the small lake and its inhabitants. She instantly identified the salt and pepper hair of Charles Carson, his bare shoulders visible just above the water line. She had taken a few steps into a bank of dense ferns when she glanced to her right and suddenly caught sight of Mrs. Carson, the water only up to her knees as she made her way through the shallows. Mary almost lost her footing as she took in the completely naked form of the woman with whom she had long associated corsets and black crinoline. She was surprised by the trim, yet voluptuous figure the older woman possessed, a small wave of happiness washing over her at the thought of Carson having such a lovely partner. As Mrs. Carson made her way towards her smiling husband, Mary looked back in the distance and saw two bicycles leaning against a large tree, the edge of a quilt laid over the ground visible on the other side of the trunk.

She took one last look at the happy, splashing couple before turning and making a dash back towards a waiting Charles Blake.

"Oh good. You weren't dragged into the lake by the centaur."

Mary was out of breath when she reached him, but a wicked smile crossed her lips as she fought to form the words, "Naked. They are swimming naked."

Charles burst into laughter, "What? The butler and housekeeper? The old couple? Skinny dipping?!" Mary fed off his infectious laughter as Charles climbed down from his horse. "This I have to see."

Their horses secured, Mary and Charles jogged through the woods, slowing down and bending over as they reached the bank of ferns just in time to see the glaring white cheeks of Charles Carson's bottom break through the surface of the water as he dove forward.

Mary fell to her own bottom amid the foliage, her hands over her eyes as she whispered, "I can never unsee that."

Charles squatted beside her, his hands covering his mouth to conceal his laughter before he pulled them away to whisper, "I think we have seen the monster who lives in the bottom of the lake." Mary punched his arm as she struggled to stifle her own giggles. Charles placed his hand on her shoulder, "Did you see the bicycles by the tree?"

Mary gave him a puzzled look, but shook her head yes, "There's a blanket behind the tree. They must have had a picnic. Why?"

Charles stood, but remained bent over as he offered her his hand, "I have an idea. Wait here."

As Charles made the quick journey back towards the horses, Mary returned her attention to the couple in the water. Spared any more sightings of Carson's behind, she did witness the very sweet interactions of the two lovers as they splashed and swam, occasionally embracing and sharing a kiss. Mary found herself unable to shake the broad smile that crossed her lips, delighting in the obvious happiness of the pair.

Charles pulled her from her reverie as he grabbed her hand, "Come on,"

They had taken a few steps towards the Carson's belongings when Mary suddenly stopped, "This is mad. We can't. Suppose they see us."

Charles gave her his most winning grin, "It isn't mad. It's…fun. And besides, they are the ones who are naked, Mary. Are you really worried about us being caught?"

She could deny neither his logic, nor his handsome smile, "Very well."

They slowly crept behind the dense bank of ferns until they reached a small clearing of ten feet that separated them from the blanket behind the tree. If either of the Carsons glanced up towards the bank when they ran through the clearing, Mary and Charles would be immediately spotted.

"Wait…" Charles whispered, his grip tightening around her hand. As if planned, both Mr. and Mrs. Carson simultaneously dove beneath the surface allowing Charles and Mary to sprint behind the wide trunk. Safely hidden, Mary noticed the bottle of champagne in Charles' hand.

"That was for our picnic," Mary hissed in a loud whisper.

"I'll buy you a case to make up for it," Charles whispered back, gently placing the bottle of champagne against a large basket that they assumed held the Carson's picnic provisions. Peaking out at the swimmers from behind the tree, Charles saw a chance to escape, but turned to find Mary was no longer behind him. She looked up from a small patch of wildflowers just past the blanket as Charles hissed, "What are you doing?"

She batted her hand at him and smiled, "Just keep a look out." A small bouquet of bluebells and Queen Anne's lace gathered, she quickly unfolded all of the Carson's clothes, laying out their respective outfits over the blanket so that Mr. Carson's attire lay beside Mrs. Carson's, the left sleeve of his shirt and the right sleeve of her dress touching as if holding hands. She finished the tableau by placing the posy on top of the overlapping cuffs and slipping the champagne bottle in what would be Carson's crooked arm, the lower half of the sleeve folded over as if holding the vessel.

"Are you quite finished?" Charles teased, but in fact he found her gesture endearing.

Mary began to cross towards him, but stopped as an idea struck her. "Almost. Keep watching." She found a small stick and set to her final task. Finished, she made her way behind him and looked over his shoulder, "Coast clear?" They saw their chance as Mr. Carson suddenly pulled Mrs. Carson to him. The passionate kiss that the husband gave his wife provided them ample time to rush back to the protection of the fern bank.

They took one more look at the couple before heading back to their horses. Charles gazed at Mary, "Will you have that with Talbot?"

She heard Mrs. Carson let out a sudden squeal which was met by hearty laughter from her husband, their obvious joy as warm and radiant as the sun that shone down on them. "By God I hope so."

Elsie and Charles held hands, continuing their practice of steadying one another, as they emerged from the shining waters of the lake and made their way back towards their picnic blanket. Charles was the first to notice the scene that had awaited them behind the tree.

"Did you do this?"

Elsie looked down, a gasp escaping her lips, "What on earth? No! I didn't do this!"

They quickly looked around, searching frantically for any stirrings or movement, but found only a few fluttering butterflies and a magpie in the tree to be their company.

Charles turned back to her, "Are you sure you didn't? You aren't teasing me?"

"Charles Carson, I did nothing of the kind." Elsie moved around to the other side of the blanket, her eyes spying the flowers. "Champagne and flowers. Well, whoever did this was kind. They could have stolen our clothes instead of going to this trouble."

"But they obviously saw us…out there…with no clothes."

Elsie didn't reply as she was distracted by something she saw in the dirt next to her feet.

Charles gave her a quizzical look, "What is it?"

Fearing Charles might keel over from sheer embarrassment if he saw what was on the ground, she conjured a bright smile, assuring him, "Nothing. Nothing at all." Distracting him with a sudden embrace and kiss, she brushed her bare feet over the ground, erasing any sign of the message that had read:

_You are both mad- and wonderful._

_Enjoy the champagne- L.M.C._


	23. 23 Thousand

**According to my Office word count, there are exactly One THOUSAND words in this post. Probably cheating, but, eh...**

Thousand

She refused to talk about it.

Charles stood up from behind his desk, a kind smile on his face as he beckoned her to cross the threshold into the office, "Please, love, we have to discuss it. I have an appointment with Murray on Tuesday. We can't put it off any longer."

"I don't want to talk about it. Just tell me where to sign." Elsie turned quickly to rush up the stairs, nearly knocking Mona down in her teary flight.

Charles met the bewildered maid at the bottom of the stairway, each flinching as Elsie slammed the bedroom door. He shook his head, "She'll be all right, Mona, but you might want to enjoy a walk outside before sunset. It may get worse before it gets better." Mona gave him a small smile before hurrying away toward the kitchen.

He slowly trudged up the stairs. He hated to press her, but time was short and given their ages, he felt it quite irresponsible not to have a proper will drawn. His intent wasn't to upset her. In fact, he was unsure exactly why she was upset. What he was asking wasn't unreasonable and yet her reaction had been so strong for someone he considered incredibly sensible.

Upon reaching the door he felt quite helpless as he listened to her whimpers escape through the keyhole. He took a deep breath as he turned the knob and looked into the room. She seemed so small drawn up into a tight ball on the far side of the bed, her body physically shaking.

"Darling, it is just a document."

She groaned, "I told you I don't want to talk about it. Please just leave me alone, Charles."

He sat on the bed next to her, gently rubbing her back. "There are decisions that I can't make on my own. I need to know what you want. I need to know what you want to do for Becky. Come on, love, please. I will do whatever you want, but you have to tell me what it is first."

"No." Her whimpers became earnest sobs as she rolled away from him.

He lay down next to her and exhaled deeply, folding his hands across his stomach as he stared at the ceiling, "This isn't like you. Please talk to me. I don't want you to be upset. Whatever it is, I will do everything in my power to make right."

A minute passed before he finally felt her move. Rolling over to face him, she placed her hand on top his, "You can't make it right because there is nothing to make right."

He reached over and wiped her cheek, "Then why are you so upset? I've never seen you like this."

Elsie rolled onto her back, unable to face him as she admitted, "I don't want to talk about it because if we don't talk about it I don't have to think about it."

He turned on his side, his head propped up by his hand, "You don't want to have to think about the will?"

She fought to swallow the lump forming in her throat, "I don't have to think about living without you."

"Oh, love." Charles pulled her to him, "Drawing up a will doesn't mean either of us is going to die anytime soon. It is something all married couples should do, no matter their age." He kissed her cheek and added, "I know it isn't a cheery topic, but once we make these decisions, we don't have to think about them again."

Elsie curled up against him, unable to stifle a new cascade of tears, "I'm sorry. I know it is foolish."

"It's not. It's not foolish." He kissed the top of her head and began to rub her back again as he changed his tact, "It is actually a chance for us to do some good if you think about it."

She pulled her head back from his chest and wiped her eyes as she looked up at him, " Do some good? What do you mean?"

"Well, the house is paid for so we will have to leave it to someone and our only living relative is Rebecca, right?" Elsie nodded as he continued, "I have been giving it quite a bit of thought. What would you think about leaving the house to the people who run Becky's home?" Elsie stared at him in astonishment. "There are certain conditions we can place on the bequest such as it be used for people with similar needs to Becky's and that they be people who need financial support. We should have a tidy sum saved up if business continues as it is for the next ten years or so. We can put that money in a fund that allows people with financial constraints to place their loved ones here. I know there must be many other families who will find themselves in the same sort of dilemma you were in all those years. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to help them?"

Elsie stared at him in disbelief, "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since we visited Becky a few months ago. I told you I was most impressed with the home and the staff…"

Elsie took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly before gazing deeply into his eyes, "Just when I think you can't possibly be more kind or wonderful, you come up with something like this."

As she buried her head against his neck, Charles smiled and whispered into her ear, "I'm glad you like the idea."

Elsie tightened her embrace and kissed his ear before shifting down into the crook of his arm. They lay in contented silence for several minutes before she whispered, "Just make me one promise, Charles."

"Of course."

"Promise me you'll never die."

He lifted her hand to his mouth, sighing as his lips brushed across her fingers. "I'll do my best, love. I promise."


	24. 24 Outside

Outside

It had taken a full month of cajoling, but Charles had finally deigned to try the canvas hammock she had coerced him into purchasing, her thought being that it would be a nice place for a guest to spend a lazy afternoon during the summer months. Swallowing his pride, Charles eventually admitted he was pleased with the addition to the back garden, proving it by spending nearly every spare moment outside lounging in the thing.

They were enjoying a rare Sunday afternoon alone, Mona taking her half day in Ripon with young Pegg, one of the Dowager's gardeners. Elsie took advantage of their privacy by removing her shoes and peeling off her stockings before venturing out the backdoor. The grass was warm and soft under her feet and she relished the feel of the air against her bare legs as she tucked the bottom hem of the back of her light cotton skirt into her waist band. She was making her way towards the flower bed to pull weeds when she was distracted by a deep chuckle from the direction of the hammock.

Crossing to the hammock she asked, "What is so terrible funny, Mr. Carson?" She ran her fingers through his hair as she looked down at the book propped up in his hands. "Is that the book I brought home for George and Marigold?"

Charles glanced up at her with a smile, "It's quite good. I glanced at the first few pages and now I can't put it down."

Elsie let out surprised laugh, "Isn't it about a bear and a tiger and a kangaroo or something?"

"Pooh Bear, Tigger, and Kanga. And there is also Roo- the baby of mama Kanga, Rabbit, Owl, Piglet and Young Christopher Robin. Oh! And a rather gloomy gus named Eyore."

"My goodness!" Elsie leaned down and kissed his forehead, "Sounds like quite a motley crew."

"Would you care for a story or two, young lady? I think I could make room for you in my hammock."

"_Your _hammock," she teased. " It is very generous of you to share it with me, kind sir. I would love to hear a story."

Charles lifted his feet, planting one on either side of the canvas to ensure Elsie could join him without fear of flipping them both over. Securely nestled against Charles' side, she bent her knee so that her bare leg rested against his thigh as she placed her hand on his chest as he began to share with her the exploits of the inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Woods.

An hour later and all but one of the chapters read, Charles closed the book. "Well, what do you think?"

Elsie grinned up at him, "Charming. I loved every minute and so will the children when you read it to them next week."

"Did you have a favorite part?" Charles set the book down on the ground next to him before sliding his arm under Elsie, pulling her closer so he could rub his hand over her back.

"Hmmm…" she hummed happily at his touch before answering, "Not necessarily a favorite part, but something did strike me while you were reading."

"Oh yes?"

Elsie shifted so that her chin rested on his chest, "I would say there are some similarities between the characters who live in the Hundred Acre Woods and some of the characters we have known at Downton."

Charles gave her a funny smile, "Would you care to explain?"

"Well, take Piglet. Wouldn't you say Mr. Molesley is an awful lot like Piglet? A little worrisome, a little behind, but always congenial and always willing to make an effort?"

Charles thoughtfully nodded, "Go on."

Elsie thought for a moment, "I know he mellowed somewhat before he departed for America, but I would say Mr. Branson was a bit of a Tigger when he first arrived at Downton. Ready to spring into action so to speak."

"I can't argue with that." Neither said anything, but it was obvious they were both thinking of a particular night involving the most revolting soup ever created. Charles laced his fingers through hers, pulling her hand to his lips, "And Mrs. Hughes? Who might Mrs. Hughes' counterpart be in the Hundred Acre Woods?"

Elsie smiled playfully, "Oh, I suppose I would lean towards Kanga. She seems fairly patient and kind. But maybe I flatter myself."

"No. I think you are quite right. And you had a sweet Roo in Lady Sybil if I am allowed to be sentimental for a moment."

Elsie inhaled deeply, a sad smile taking the place of the playful, but kissed Charles cheek before replying, "You can always be sentimental with me, Charles."

He began to rub her back again as he offered a leading, "And Owl? Who is the Owl in our Downton stable of characters?"

Elsie was well aware of what he expected to hear, but she decided to surprise him with a different answer. "Oh, that's the Dowager. Of that there is no doubt. Always a smart answer, always right, always knowing better than anyone else? She's even got those big eyes like an owl."

Charles didn't laugh at her comparison. "Ah, well. Yes. I suppose I can see that."

Elsie regretted her answer as she felt him withdraw from their cuddle, his body tensing up. She tried to make up for her faux pas, "Of course there are others that fit the characters just as well…"

"No, no. You are quite right. The Dowager is Owl." His words were curt. "You don't have to cover. It is obvious who you think I am…"

"Rabbit."

He looked down at her in surprise, "What?"

"You are Rabbit. His Lordship is Pooh Bear and you are Rabbit. You were the source of reason and the one who solved the problems. You are Rabbit."

Charles stared at her, "I thought for sure you were going to say I was Eyore."

Elsie laughed, "Oh, my darling. In a house that saw the likes of Sarah O'Brien and Thomas Barrow, how in heaven's name could I think you Eyore?"

"But Eyore isn't bad. He just wallows in his misfortune."

Elsie patted him on the chest, "Indeed."

Digesting her comment, he suddenly looked at his wife with appreciation. "You are one kind and clever woman, Elsie Carson."

Giving him a quick kiss before skillfully climbing out of the hammock, she replied, "Thank you, my darling. Now I think we have spent quite enough time outside." Offering him her hand, she added, "Let's go in the kitchen. I don't know about you but I am craving honey."

**Obviously there are a myriad of options of matching up characters from each story. Would love to hear your take! :) And Anna is my Christopher Robin.**


	25. 25 Winter

Winter

Charles watched the deft fingers of his wife knit and pearl from a skein of pale yellow wool, a tiny sleeve forming from the side of a miniature jumper.

"I don't know how you can handle all that warm wool in this heat." Charles took a lick of his ice cream as he and Elsie relaxed under their umbrella in rented lounge chairs on the Brighton shore.

"I don't know how you can keep your shirt sleeves rolled down in this heat," she countered, pausing to take a sip of the lemonade he had brought her.

"That baby won't be here until Christmas and already you have an entire winter wardrobe knit. And why is everything yellow?"

Elsie pursed her lips at her husband, "We don't know if it will be baby boy Bates or baby girl Bates. Either sex can wear yellow."

Charles rolled his eyes, "People will think it is baby banana Bates if you don't vary the color of your wool." He gave her a wink as he shared a lick of his ice cream.

Elsie couldn't help but laugh at her cheeky husband. Their trip had brought out a silly side to him she had seen only on occasion in the fifteen months they had been married, and rarely if ever in the more than twenty years they had spent at Downton. "The beach brings out the boy in you, Mr. Carson."

"And it is going to bring out the lobster in you if you don't pull your bare feet out of the sun, Mrs. Carson."

Elsie smiled as she pulled her knees up, a smattering of freckles already breaking across her uncovered shins. She looked over with envy at the golden brown skin of her husband's legs, his trousers rolled up as they had been the day they had paddled in the waves three years before.

Charles closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his chair, a happy sigh escaping his lips. Elsie reached out and brushed her fingers over the top of his hand, "Enjoying yourself?"

"Very much so. In fact, I am storing up memories, Mrs. Carson."

"Oh yes?"

Charles turned his head, one eye opening in her direction, "I am going to store every single detail of this afternoon in my memory so I can recall it on a cold winter day." He reached over and cupped her face in his hand, "I will look over at you curled up in a cardigan and quilt and I will remember the rose of your cheek left by the kiss of the sun…" he leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss before whispering, "…and the taste of lemon on your lips and I will be made warm."

Elsie put her hand over his, "The business of life is the acquisition of memories. In the end that's all there is."

Charles drew is lips up into a sneer, "What pompous bore said that?"

Elsie looked at him in surprise before breaking into laughter. "You don't remember?"

Charles let out a small groan, "It was me, wasn't it?"

"Afraid so, my love."

"Why do you put up with me?"

Elsie pulled his hand to her lips, "Because you also say sweet things about the rose of my cheek left by the kiss of the sun and give me licks of your ice cream."

Charles grinned, "And what memory will you store up to warm you on a cold winter day, Elsie Carson?"

"I will remember the kiss my husband gave me when he held my hand during our second paddle in the sea."

Charles rose to his feet and offered his hand, "I suppose we had better make some memories then, Mrs. Carson."

**As my Nanny Burnaugh used to say, "Hope that didn't curl your teeth..." You guys are beyond lovely. Thank you for all the kind reviews and support.**


	26. 26 Diamond

**Warning: AU Bombshell ahead. Not sure if any other Chelsie author has presented this idea...am thinking may write a separate piece in exploration unless the feedback is negative. Thanks in advance for reading you fantastic lot-**

Diamond

Summer had seemed to disappear over night as August became September. A cold rain had ushered in the dawn of the first day of the new month and it had lasted all week, only dissipating with the onset of the evening's dusk.

Unsure whether it was the weather or if she coming down with something, Charles gave his wife a worried look as she picked at the stew in her bowl.

"Everything all right, love?"

Elsie looked up, but didn't hold his gaze as she quietly answered, "Oh, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? The stew was delicious and you've barely taken three bites."

She sniffed and gave him a small smile as she picked up her almost full bowl and his empty one on her way to the kitchen. Charles followed in her somber wake. "Do you think you might be ill? Do you hurt anywhere?"

Elsie leaned against the counter as she stared at the bowls in the sink. She did hurt, but not in the conventional way of which he spoke. The pains she felt were of the heart and soul variety. The dismal weather had signaled the end of a wonderful, carefree summer full of distractions. Now, cooped up with little to occupy her mind or time, she felt dreaded memories she had joyfully tucked away begin to crawl out of their hidden depths.

"I wish you'd unburden yourself, love."

She looked over her shoulder at him, "I don't know that you do, Charles."

He moved quickly to her side at the sink. "What is it? Tell me, darling." The feel of his warm hand on her cheek was more than her aching heart could take and she allowed a tear to escape the corner of her eye. "Are you sure?"

Charles felt a sudden tug of fear, but the sight of his wife's misery was far more upsetting. "Of course. We should share our troubles, Elsie."

She studied his face a moment before taking his hand from her cheek and leading him back into the dining room.

She started slowly, but with each secret she shared, she felt as though a heavy layer of weight composed of anguish, despair and anger had slowly been picked and lifted away.

Charles sat quietly holding her hand, his lips never uttering a word as she talked of Tom Branson and his seduction by the scheming Edna Braithwaite, as well as bringing to true light Marigold and her mother and the details of Ethel's depths of despair and heart wrenching separation from the child whom, like Marigold, would never know who his mother truly was.

It was when she began to speak of their beloved Anna that she lost all control of her emotions. Through sobs and choking breaths, she told the sorry tale of Alex Green and the horrors he inflected on their girl as Dame Nellie sang, bringing to surface the wretched injustice of Anna's imprisonment and the lengths to which Mr. Bates had gone to secure her freedom at the possible cost of his own.

With only two layers left to shed, she wiped her eyes and nose before taking both of his hands in hers'. With a deep breath, she finally admitted to him the discovery of and the torment endured over the lump in her breast. He listened to her speak of sleepless nights filled with worries; worry over money, worry over Becky's care and worry that she wouldn't live to see more days with him.

Using her same handkerchief, she reached out and dabbed at tears that now fell down his cheeks as he maintained his caring, sympathetic, yet silent demeanor. "I have one more burden, Charles, and it is the greatest of my life and I am terrified to tell you because I am afraid it will change things. Change how you feel about me."

Charles shook his head and whispered, "I love you. Nothing you have said or can say could possibly change how I feel about you."

She looked deep into his shining eyes, so full of love and spoke the words she had never said aloud in over forty years. "Becky isn't my sister, Charles. Becky is my daughter."

The color drained from his cheeks. "What?" He tightened his grip on her hands as he tried to convince himself that he had misheard her.

"I was sixteen and it was harvest time." Elsie's gaze went to the table, unable to look him in the eye any longer. "There was a group of lads who made their way through Scotland during each harvest season and would help the farmers get the crops in as the weather moved. One boy paid me particular attention like I had never been paid before and I was young and foolish and I lost my good sense…and my virtue in my father's barn in the middle of a late summer's night. The boy was gone the next day, never seen or heard from again. And nine months later, I had a baby girl and she was born with the chord around her neck. She was blue. I remember seeing my mam holding her upside down, patting her back and I just kept saying, "She's blue…she's blue…" It took several minutes, but she did finally let out the tiniest cry." Elsie lost control of the emotions she had so painfully marshaled until this point, fighting to catch her breath as she continued, "It was clear within the first few months that she wasn't like other babies. She didn't crawl or coo or react like other babies. She did everything late."

She glanced up at his face, willing him to offer some sort of response, but his expression was unreadable. Swallowing hard, she continued, "No one knew about her. My mother had kept me shut up at home from the time I began to show and I had been out of school for almost five years so no one thought much about not seeing me until one day when Joe Burns and his father showed up to ask for my father's help with a lame horse. My parents knew Joe was sweet on me and would want to see me so they hid me in the back room with Becky. I prayed that she would keep quiet, but she began crying and I couldn't soothe her. My mam opened the door to where we were hiding and I heard my father say, "Elsie's tending to her sister. She'll have to see you another time, Joe," and that was it. We never spoke of it, my parents and I. From then on, Becky was no longer mine. She was my mother's. It broke my heart, I loved her, love her, so very much."

Charles looked down at their clasped hands, letting almost a minute pass before he spoke. "I…I need some time. I need to walk." He squeezed her hands and looked into her eyes, but she could detect neither rejection, nor acceptance in his look, only contemplation.

"Of course." She felt her stomach drop as he let go of her hand and made his way to the back door.

She remained at the table for a few minutes. The shedding of the burdens had lifted a tremendous weight from her, but with the sudden departure of her husband, she felt not only lighter, but without tether; a lonely and terrifying feeling. With a deep breath, she willed her legs to carry her into the kitchen to tend to the leftover stew and dishes.

He had made a few circuits of the back garden when he looked up and saw her at the kitchen window. The warm amber light above her head highlighted the flashes of copper and gold in her hair and caused shadows to intensify the definitions of her strong cheekbones and elegant nose. He watched her worry the precious bottom lip he found so sweet to taste and it suddenly struck him how incredibly strong she was.

A set of footmen had taken to calling her "Keeper of the Keys" in the years just before Thomas had come to work at Downton. He now knew that keys were the least of what Elsie Hughes Carson had carried with her for so many years. It took great discipline and strength of character to shelter the secrets of others', as well as one's own; Anna, Tom and Ethel had detected these qualities in her, recognizing her kindness and trustworthiness. Even he himself had shared more secrets with her than anyone else for these very reasons.

And her own secret. She had been a naïve farm girl who made one youthful mistake and had paid for it in spades for the rest of her life; sacrificing and scrimping to take care of a child she was never allowed to call her own. All those years she had carried this tremendous burden in her heart.

He sat down on the wrought iron bench, the cold damp seeping through his trouser seat and recalled something his father had told him when he was a young boy.

A brooch had been lost by a visitor to the abbey while she was riding and Charles had happened upon it when walking to the stable from the riding trail, the shiny diamond surrounded by jet shining in the sun.

"Do you know where these come from, Charlie?" His father pointed at the multi-faceted stone that shimmered in the fire light given off by the lamp that sat on his father's desk. Charles shook his head. Bending down to the box next to the hearth, his father retrieved a piece of coal. "This. It starts out like this and after many, many years of pressure from the layers of earth on it, it becomes this," he held the brooch out to Charles, "a diamond. And miners dig them out from under all those layers so people can appreciate their beauty. It is very strong. Stronger than any other stone. It takes more force than you or I can imagine to break it. You see the way it catches the light?" His father lifted the stone towards the firelight, "You will never see anything as strong or as beautiful."

* * *

She sat on the edge of their bed facing away from the door, darkness surrounding her except for the moon's light that shone through the window and across her face. She heard the bedroom door open and close, but she didn't turn.

He crossed around to the end of the bed nearest her, looking down at her moonlit face, silver light reflecting in her shining eyes. His voice was quiet and tender as he repeated the words he had said earlier in the evening, " "I love you. Nothing you have said or can say could possibly change how I feel about you."

Taking the hand she now offered, he sat down next to her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, quite certain he would never know anyone as strong or as beautiful as his Elsie.


	27. 27 Letters

**I really wanted this to work, but I don't think it does. I am tired and getting cranky, so letting it go and moving to the next prompt... **

Letters

"When may we go see Chelsie?"

Marigold's question had come out of the blue as she sat on the floor of the library with George playing "Go to the Mill" as Lady Edith and Lady Mary looked on.

Edith ran her fingers through the tan curls of her daughter as she asked, "Who, darling? Who is Chelsie?"

"Mr. Carson and Mrs. Carson." George didn't look up from their score ledger as he replied.

Mary looked at Edith with curiosity, "Chelsie? George, why did Marigold call them Chelsie?"

"Mrs. Carson calls him Charles and he calls her Elsie. Marigold calls them Chelsie," he shrugged his shoulders with disinterest as he nudged Marigold to take her turn in the game.

"And Mr. Carson doesn't mind?" Mary was nonplussed at the informal moniker.

Her son looked up at her, "I don't know. He smiles when she says it."

Edith gave her sister a rare smile. "I rather like it and they aren't the same Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes now that they have their own home, Mr. Carson, especially," she added remembering his impersonation of their grandmother the first time the children had visited them. "Chelsie seems rather fitting."

"It still isn't right." Mary picked a piece of lint off her skirt. "What next? Calling Anna and Mr. Bates Janna?"

"I like Banna better. Makes me think of a banana." Edith mused.

"And I suppose Mama and Papa would be Cobert or Rora?"

Edith chuckled, "Oh, Cobert, I think. Definitely Cobert."

Mary tilted her head as she thought of the other couples they knew, "I suppose Tom and Sybil would have been Tybil."

"Oh, I like that. Tybil. Sounds Shakespearean. And you and Matthew? Your names both start with "M" and you had the same last name. "

Mary thought for a moment, "Mattry? Yes. Mattry. "

Edith smiled, "And now with Henry? Menry? Hary?"

"Oh not Hary! Menry's not bad."

"Malbot?" Edith offered.

"No, no! That's worse! Menry. " Mary watched as her sister's happy countenance darken for a moment, unsure she would be shown the kindness of Mary tying her name to that of Michael Gregson. "And you and Michael Gregson, what? "Mideth?"

Edith playfully scowled, "No! That sounds like 'My Death.' What about…" she thought for a moment, "Michith?"

"Not bad," her sister allowed. "This is rather fun."

"It is."

Unknown to the girls was their parents' presence in the doorway, having heard the majority of the conversation.

Robert whispered, "All that money for governesses and finishing schools and they entertain themselves by switching around the letters in names to come up with these ludicrous monikers?"

"Shush," his wife chided. "This is the most civilly they have behaved towards one another in years. And I think it sounds rather fun."

Her husband shook his head in surrender. "Very well then. I suppose Cobert should leave them to it?"

His wife smiled, "Yes. Cobert should."


	28. Chapter 28-30 PromiseSimpleFuture

**I can't imagine anything more apropos for the prompts of "Promise" and "Future" than the arrival of the much wanted and tremendously loved Bates baby. The writing is **_**simple**_**, but heartfelt- as is my wish for each of you as offered in the final lines of this last drabble. Tremendous thanks for reading the over the last month, you sweet and gorgeous people.**

Promise ~ Simple ~ Future

Baby Bates arrived just as the New Year's bells tolled from the nearby church. The labor had been mercifully quick and complication free much to the relief of the three people who waited in the small sitting room of the Bates' cottage; the collected heads of Lady Mary Crawley, John Bates and Charles Carson turning in anxious expectation at the sound of the opening bedroom door and subsequent cries of a new born. The messenger wore a bright smile as she delivered her news.

"Mother and daughter are doing beautifully." Elsie Carson focused her attention on John Bates as she beckoned him towards the room, "If you would like to meet your daughter, Mister Bates…"

Happy father ensconced in the room, Elsie made her way to Charles who took her hand and brought it to his lips. Sensing their need for privacy, Lady Mary took the opportunity to serve those who had spent the majority of her life serving her by offering to make everyone a cup of tea.

Out of Lady Mary's presence, Elsie allowed the tears she had held at bay to flow freely. "She's perfect, Charles. So pink and perfect." Accepting the welcoming arms of her husband, Elsie finally granted herself permission to let joy and relief wash away the anxiety and unwanted memories of Becky's birth the labor had conjured. Exhaling deeply, she pulled Charles' handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her eyes, "After clearing her airways and cleaning her up a little, Dr. Clarkson handed her to me as he tended to Anna. I got to hold her, Charles. I hope she could feel how much I already love her."

Charles smiled down at her, "Of course she felt it, love."

He wrapped his arms back around her as she whispered, "And Anna told me they are naming her Elisabeth. Elisabeth with an "s."

Charles squeezed her tightly, "Your namesake."

* * *

The smiling faces of the village church congregation looked on as Elisabeth Geraldine Bates was welcomed into their church family on a Sunday morning in February, 1928. Adorned in a simple, but lovely ivory christening gown and bonnet made for her by Mrs. Baxter and safely held in the arms of Daisy Mason, her godmother, the baby let out only a small cry as Mr. Travis doused her head with water from the baptismal. She was not alone in her shedding of tears, this evident as Mr. Molesly dabbed at the corners of his eyes while placing a kiss on the head of his goddaughter.

The Crawley family had kindly arranged to have Sunday luncheon with the Dowager to afford the staff an opportunity to celebrate Elisabeth's christening at the Carson home that afternoon. The crowd assembled included the entire staff now employed at the Abbey, as well as Beryl Mason and Gwen, along with their husbands, and Gwen's little girl, Olivia Sybil.

The guest of honor managed to sleep through most of the party warmly cradled in the arms of the tall silver haired man who would become not only her surrogate grandfather, but future favorite playmate. It took some doing, but with the help of his wife, he managed to get the room's attention as he offered a quiet toast.

"We have gathered together so many times over the years, most often as colleagues, but today we are gathered as a family to welcome a new member to our clan. Please raise a glass to Elisabeth Geraldine Bates, may your life be long and your future filled with much promise and great joy. To Elisabeth."

The room returned a collective whisper, "To Elisabeth."

* * *

Beryl and Daisy had stayed behind to do the washing up, shooing Elsie out of the kitchen to relax in the sitting room with Charles who was taking care of baby Elisabeth while John and Anna made their goodbyes to the members of the house who were loading into the Abbey bound wagonette.

Elsie heard the low rumble of Charles voice as she opened the door. Quietly slipping through the kitchen door, she tiptoed towards the doorway that separated the dining room from the sitting room in an effort to hear him as he walked around the room, lightly bouncing a very alert Elisabeth.

"…and you are welcome here anytime, I hope you know that, my darling girl. We will spoil you rotten with toys and sweets and we will play and play all day and I am going to build you a swing that will hang from the tree and Elsie will make you shortbread. You know Elsie, don't you? She was the one Dr. Clarkson handed you to when you first came into this world. The first sweet smile you ever saw. She loves you so very much which makes you a very lucky little girl. We are both very lucky to have her, believe you me." The baby cooed in response to Charles. "You know that already, well, of course you do. Yes. Yes."

Elsie placed her hand over her heart, willing the organ not to burst from her chest, so filled with love as it was for the man before her. She managed to take a silent step back into the shadows of the dim dining room as Charles turned in her direction, his smile and attention still focused solely on the tiny girl he held out in front of him, her head gently cradled in his hand as his other hand supported her bottom as he began to sing a simple blessing:

_Here's to you_

_May your dreams come true_

_May old Father Time never be unkind_

_And through the years_

_Save your smiles and your tears _

_They're just souvenirs_

_They'll make music in your heart_

_Remember this_

_Each new day is a kiss _

_Sent from up above with an angel's love_

_So here's to you_

_May your skies be blue_

_And your love blessed_

_That's my best to you…_


End file.
